The Best Medicine
by Inks Inc
Summary: Special Agent L.J. Gibbs stumbles unknowingly across Dr Cloda O'Brien on a routine case. The connection that forges between them is all consuming. But...there's something more to her than he knows & there's something more to him than she dares dream for. What happens when secrets become knowledge? When lust turns to love? WARNING: Domestic Discipline Theme. Now Complete.
1. Meet Cloda

The thin material of the sweat soaked scrub top peeled against her skin as she shrugged out of it. The trails of her hair hung limply against the side of her face as she clasped the sides of the sink and exhaled slowly. Looking into the post-op room mirror, caked with the almost intangible and paradoxical grime of sterility, she smiled tiredly. Being the Chief of Surgery at the most major hospital and trauma centre in DC had always been her dream.

She had worked for it.

She had sacrificed for it.

She had fought for it.

Every day was a new day, a new learning experience and she relished and thrived in the never ending chasm of opportunity. Looking at her tired face now, she smiled wistfully as she remembered the creaseless and carefree visage she had landed in America with. The one she had left Ireland with, accompanied with nothing but a singular suitcase and the beaming and bursting pride of her rural parents. She was looking at a very different face now. One with thirty years more experience than the one that had bounced off the proverbial boat.

Sighing, she pulled herself off the sink and realised that the longing to be a twenty something again with everything laid out before them was at a particularly high point today. She loathed aging, though she managed to do so with an almost seamless grace. Her green eyes still sparkled with the same enthusiasm as her toddler self had possessed, and her fiery red hair remained as fierce as ever. A rigorous moisturising regime in combination with a steadfastly health conscious diet had ensured her skin was as soft and supple as it had ever been, her deep set dimples as prominent as ever. All in all, at fifty…she looked damned good.

Setting to work scrubbing the eight hour operation from her person, her mind wandered further and the cause of her unusual concern with her appearance swum before her eyes. She felt her lips curve upwards in that _ridiculous_ smile that he, or even the thought of him, brought about. She felt her heart quicken somewhat and actually laughed softly at her foolishness. But she couldn't help it. There was just _something about_ him. The way he automatically commanded respect the moment he walked into a room, and yet his gentle nature was so clear to see if you bothered to look. The way his eyes, though having already seen so much, still sparkled and twinkled like blue pools of excitement.

The way his hands…

She blinked, and pulled herself together. She was at _work_ for crying out loud. But the truth was…she couldn't wait to be finished work. Her chuckle lilted from her once more. Dr Cloda O'Brien…was _not_ the person that sprung to mind when one visualised the final yard dash. She was a self confessed and outward proponent of being a workaholic. It's how she got to the position she held. Dedication and sacrifice and not rushing out the door to kiss her husband and greet her children at six pm. Because…there _were_ no children, and there _was_ no husband.

Not anymore.

There hadn't been for a very long time.

Her nose wrinkled at her consciousness, the disastrous break up of her marriage with a man who wanted her but couldn't understand her. A man who would rather coo over his brother's children, than have children of his own. A man she loved with her every fibre throughout a tumultuous and often oppressive marriage, and yet a man who couldn't satisfy her. The allure of chalk and cheese wearing off in the middle of the three am fight about work schedules and their persistent state of childlessness.

She smiled softly as she found those painful thoughts easier than ever to push away.

She just had to imagine _his_ face.

His crooked little smile.

 _Him…._

The door creaked open and she was suddenly snapping back to the present as a laughing duo of interns suddenly choked on their laughter and writhed in their own nervousness. Sighing, she adopted her "work" persona, and offered the youngsters a professional nod as she swept past them. They didn't breathe until she was a solid twenty feet away.

That was the effect she had on people.

On subordinates in particular.

She was respected, but feared. She was approachable, but also closed off as all hell. She could smile, but she rarely did. She didn't do small talk, she did to the point talk. She needed a copious amount of tea, she would kill those who stood in her way. She laid claim to the mind behind medical and surgical breakthroughs, she volunteered at the free children's clinic.

She was…complex.

That's what the whispered conclusion of her being around the water cooler was. She was fierce, but she had a golden heart that few witnessed. She had suffered through a long and unhappy marriage, both parties unable to let go. She had…trouble breaking free. There had been restraining orders, sympathetic judges and nodding lawyers. Administration staff had also volunteered into the gossip pool that her ex was in jail now, for harassing _another_ woman.

All of which had been greeted with sanctimonious nods of approval.

Striding through the halls now, experience teaching her to be oblivious of the way junior doctors sprang apart like the metaphorical parting of the sea to allow her passage, she entered her spacious and luxurious office. The office that over three hundred bright, young, ambitious doctors from all over DC had set their sights on.

The one she had beaten them off for.

 _Her_ office.

Quickly using her private bathroom to change back into her staple, no nonsense suit pants and blouse, she threw herself behind her desk. One or two last minute type ups, and she was free. Well, as free as an anchor like pager and contracted on call could allow for. But…free-ish nonetheless. Free…to meet _him._ To feel the days stress, the strain of the lives that literally rested in her bare hands melt away at his simplest touch. To recline with a comfort she had never known into his safe arms, his broad chest and his warm presence. As if on cue, her cell rattled on the desk top.

Feeling her stomach dance with the ridiculous butterflies that she had scolded herself for, she grinned.

The grin that had been habitual, when she was an intern, and then an attending.

Those grins had become less frequent however, until they were nearly buried under atrophied facial muscles as the stress and strains of the job she loved so much crept up on her. The stress and strains he made disappear with one gentle stroke of his thumb across her still very prominent cheekbones.

He was literally her self prescribed medication.

One hundred percent organic to boot.

A rarity.

The message was short, clipped and to the point…but she could _feel_ the smirk in it. His usual confident, but not as seemingly poplar belief would have it, arrogant parlance that he had down to a fine art. Her heat skipped an annoying beat as she looked down at the files that _could_ wait till tomorrow, but a mere three months ago she wouldn't have _dreamt_ of the possibility of doing so.

Now though…her grin grew wider as she stood and shrugged into her suit jacket.

Flicking the desk lamp off, she grabbed her…she didn't like to think what number, tea of the day and swept from the office. It was a mere eight pm, and the looks of shock that were exchanged between the nursing staff as she clocked off for the day were intense. Striding past them and bidding them a clipped goodnight accompanied by rather dire warnings to keep her patients alive, she was soon landing on the ground floor of the cavernous hospital.

Scowling at herself, she stopped to check her appearance in the many floor length mirrors.

She had always been described as willowy, with her long legs and naturally slim physique. Her pale and lightly freckled complexion accompanied by her vivid hair and eyes had often been the envy of her friends at school, where she was often called the "walking advertisement for Ireland." Her parents had loved that, the sheer Irish-ness of their only daughter a delight to their caring minds.

It had been years since she'd truly _cared_ about her appearance.

Rolling her eyes at her girlishness, she straightened one flyaway amber lock and exited the building into the balmy evening air. One quick glance around the car lot and she spied him. Leaning against his stubbornly beat up old car, trademark coffee and eye twinkle in hand. The grin spread across her face once more, and she found herself free of the usual rebukes that used to come with it.

With other men…over the years, she'd always been aloof, hard to pin down. Purposely so, desperate to avoid the head over heels love she had had for her ex husband, which had led to so much pain. But with him…she just _couldn't._ She couldn't be analytical and intelligent about things, she just…couldn't. She had found a naturalness about herself with him that she had almost forgotten. A naturalness that didn't mind that much when she fell over such was her clumsiness. A naturalness that just laughed along with him when he never failed to catch her in his arms. A naturalness that rendered her unbidden, uninhibited.

It was almost painfully refreshing.

There was only one dent, one nick in the coat of armoured freedom.

She had tried to tell him once or twice, before baulking inwardly. Telling herself that it was much too soon and that he would run for the hills. Telling herself she was _insane_ to risk messing up whatever…it was, that they had. Telling herself that she didn't _really_ need it, and the unsatisfied feeling she had had in other relationships where her secret remained secreted wasn't indicative of how she would feel with _him._

That they were perfectly fine the way they _were,_ and she didn't need to screw it up.

Whatever "it" was.

Reaching him, she looked up, slightly taller that he was and smiled her wide smile as he planted a soft kiss on her lips and took her in his arms. The smell of him was intoxicating to her. A _real world_ smell that almost reminded her of home. Where it was much more common to find a man bathed in coal dust, than in sanitizing gel. Nearly every man she met was a doctor or a lawyer, such was the climate DC provided. It was…so nice, to breath in his more earthy smell. Of hard work and wood shavings. Of soap and old time aftershave.

He was intoxicating, but in such a good way.

Her loud stomach rumbling suddenly interrupted her inhalation.

"You're hungry again, Dr O'Brien," he murmured softly into her hair, and the playfully admonishing tone in his voice made her knees tremble. He had a _thing_ about her not looking after herself, which she had picked up on even in their short…whatever it was. Snuggling into his chest, she shrugged slightly. "Been a busy day Gibbs," she chuckled, "no time for roasting a steak over an open fire, you know what I mean?"

Rolling his eyes as he released her and opened her side of his car for her convenience, Gibbs' trademark smirk played upon his lips as he arched that brow that made Cloda feel quite faint.

"Not eating anything all day _…_ again? What am I going to do with you hmm?"

She smiled softly as he closed the door on his teasing words and clutched her now reclaimed tea tight to her chest as his solid torso slid into the seat beside her, filling the car with his soothing, strong presence. She glanced at his hands as they found the steering wheel, large and gentle and suppressed a choked little sigh of longing.

 _If only she could tell him…_

….

TBC

….

A/N: Ok, so I've wanted to do this kind of a storyline for a long time but haven't been able to pluck up the guts to do it but a rainy, lazy Sunday kinda brought it out! I never write about OC's, because I think they can be hard to visualise in an already established cast, so that's why this chapter is quite Cloda heavy, but it'll balance out. I just didn't want to go down the Jenny etc road with this! She's Irish because simply because I am and it's easy to write about! I'm intending for this to be a sort of multi-chaptered fic if there's interest! Their relationship is literally at the start, and will progress from here in a fashion I'm sure you can deduce! Anyhow, pretty nervous author here as this is totally out of my comfort zone so please let me know you guys think!

-This isn't related to my other NCIS stories which are still ongoing!

-Other stories that have just been updated will be updated again soon!

-For those following "Sacrificial Intelligence" and "Loathing, Love and Lilly," there'll be one more chapter of each up soon and then they're done!

-Inks


	2. Who's Hungry?

Cloda continued to repeat his words to herself. Even two weeks later. Over her morning tea, over her afternoon case review…anywhere she had a spare minute to cash in. Her heart would give that predictable little jump when she visualised the crooked smile that had accompanied those words, such a jump making her glad that her more neurological leanings spared her the company of the cardiac surgeons. It was such a throwaway comment, one that he probably had forgotten all about by the time he slipped his solid torso into the car, and yet it plagued her mind. It nestled in the corners of her deepest, darkest brain matter and made a home for itself.

 _What am I going to do with you?_

Her stomach leapt and she felt the familiar yearning to have the sheer brass tacks to scream the answer at him, to screech it into his ears, whilst somehow retaining _some_ concept of her well refined persona. She had stared at him that night, as he bit into his steak dinner, trying to find the words. Trying to source an explanatory phrasing that didn't have him choking on his rustically cooked meal.

She had failed.

And so she remained in the drudgery of the status quo, wrapped in the clinging blanket of yearning. It was perhaps a cruel irony that everything about the man exuded the very core being of her desires. He was authoritative, without being controlling. He was instantly respected, whilst giving the same level of respect right back. He was strong and unbending, without being brutish and unfeeling. He was…impossible to deny. It was impossible not to hone in on the very qualities that appealed to her, that screamed at her to come right on in.

Staring now, at the medical journal splayed across her scrub dressed lap, she sighed. Prepping for surgery had always been her favourite time. It was a time that she found ultimate peace. Goal orientated as she was, Cloda had always found an odd intimacy in the time before she picked up that first scalpel. A time where she was most…attuned to her own being. But now, as she sighed and tossed the journal onto the table, she was besieged.

With thoughts of him.

Heaving herself to her feet, she was still so consumed that she didn't even hear her stomach grumble and rumble with the hunger. She didn't even register the oncoming headache that was pooling behind her eyes. Her hunger headaches had been a thing of legends at Yale. Right now, she just ignored it. Her patient needed her. Swinging through into the sterile environment outside her operating theatre, she set to work scrubbing. Even though she knew she could scrub and soap till kingdom come, and her potentially insatiate desires would still throb underneath her skin, thudding along with her own pulse

Across town, in a considerably less clean establishment, thoughts were also being taken away from the rightful direction of work. It was a slow day in the bull pen, and with no active case on the books, team Gibbs was sifting through the misery of case review. Ignoring with an unusual ease the bickering and sniping going on with his three agent's, Gibbs sat and stared blankly at an open file. A thick drizzle of coffee sailed down his windpipe as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, the only outward betrayal of his inner thoughts.

She was…something else.

There'd been other women of course, since Shannon. But no one had made his heart do that _ridiculous_ little misstep like his first wife had. Not even Jenny and he'd been as head over heels as he could be about her. With Cloda on the other hand…everything just came so _easy._ He didn't stiffen awkwardly in the inevitable silences that came when people were getting to know each other. He didn't feel the need to _titivate_ himself around her, something he _despised._ Far from scorning the rather carpenter like smell that often hung around him, Cloda… always seemed to nuzzle closer into it.

Into him.

Of course, he was still battling the usual feelings of betrayal that pierced him when he met a new woman. Shannon had been the one, _his_ one. And…the beginning of a new relationship always seemed to throw that all the more sharply into contrast. The only thing that got him over that hurdle was the unshakable knowledge that she wouldn't want him to be alone. She'd have wanted him to find someone, and she _definitely_ wouldn't be impressed with the formative years after her and Kelly's deaths that he'd spent shut off from the world.

Checking his cell subtly, he rolled his eyes at the disappointment that there was no word from Cloda. Scowling at himself, he firmly had words with his inner being. She was a freaking surgeon, a _chief_ of surgery at that. She didn't exactly have time to be sitting by the phone and painting her nails. That was another thing he was beginning to love her. She just… _got_ the importance of work. Of hers, of his. She didn't create a fuss when he had to ring and cancel plans because they'd just caught a case, she didn't sigh and scowl when he turned up hours late with a sheepish smile and one of those croissants she was crazy about from that bakery across town.

She just… _got_ it.

Got him.

Because she was the _same._ She often had to bail on dinner, which was rarely a posh affair to his eternal relief. She often had to break off mid conversation and race back to the hospital to deal with some emergency or other…and, he didn't mind it. He admired it, respected it. Staring down at the meaningless file in front of him now, he barely suppressed a chuckle. If someone had told him a couple of years that he would be acting like a moron teenager about a sought after surgeon, he'd have laughed them off the pitch.

Now…he just thanked his stars that his "brainiac" as he sometimes affectionately called her, seemed to love all the very much _unrefined_ aspects of him. She had gaped, and then spluttered into endearing laughter when he had first led her down the basement to see his latest boat. She hadn't been afraid to get dirty either, insisting he show her how to sand the hull down. He smiled fondly at the memory, her slight and yet firm frame in front of his, as his hands guided hers. The way she had squeaked in happiness when she got it right on the _tenth_ try. She didn't…put on airs and graces. She was educated, but she was grounded.

And he loved that about her.

Staring down at his phone once more and sighing as it stubbornly presented no new information, he correctly assumed that Cloda had been called into an unscheduled surgery. The one thing about her that concerned him flitted across his mind. He understood that her work schedule was full on, but she still had to _eat._ He had felt his brow furrow on nights when he had collected her from the hospital and she had devoured a pizza that would make the plumpest of grown ass men pause for contemplation. Only when the last slice had been polished off, would some colour return to her ashen with hunger cheeks and he could let out a little sigh of relief.

He supposed he'd always been that way, always been… _protective._

Anyone just had to look at Tony, Tim, Abby or Ziva the wrong way to know he'd rip their damned heads off. The same was rapidly becoming applicable to Cloda. Not in a… _no man could look at my woman_ kind of way. He shuddered internally. He hated those kinds of controlling, insecure jerks that he so often came across in his line of work. No, his protectiveness of his new romantic interest was more in the simple category of…well, safety.

She needed to _eat._

Going over thirteen hours without a bite of food in anyone's book was a bad idea. One midget of a banana for "potassium" that enabled her to carry out surgeries didn't really satisfy his worry the way she thought it would. She had admitted to falling into rather disastrous eating habits one night, as she obliterated a formidable pasta dish. Beginning in med school, her eating routine had gone right out the window, grabbing whatever just whenever she remembered to see her through.

Gibbs felt his brows knit together.

He'd seen how dazed and tired she got after a particularly hellacious day that didn't see her with so much as a sandwich in her stomach. He'd seen how she would slump into his car and only regain her usual, bouncing function after a hearty meal. He knew her well enough to know her lack of food intake wasn't some type of body issue that she was struggling with. Her body…well, it was perfect. He felt his stomach do a ridiculous little flip as he thought of it.

And she was self aware enough to know that.

Her problem was literally one of organisation. As professionally planned as she always was the one thing she neglected…was herself. She would put the needs of her patients before hers every time, and would often operate long into the night, ignoring her body's pleas for food as she battled some disease or injury. It was admirable, but it was also self destructive and it caused Gibbs no end of worry. What if she fell over, which she was _already_ prone to doing, because her body was limp and weak with hunger and weariness? What if she cut herself with one of those…things she had to use? The "what if's" were endless.

It had only been a few months since Cloda had caught his eye on that case, but even so…the thought of anything happening to her was abhorrent to him, it was an intolerable possibility. Made all the more intolerable by the _needlessness_ of it all. Gibbs sighed as he sat. He knew…it was _way_ too early to even _begin_ to broach the subject of his…tendencies, with her. She would take one look at him, contempt colouring her beautiful face and run for the hills.

He just knew it.

And it killed him.

His need to protect was so strong, and yet _she_ was so strong. She could damned well take care of herself, and he both knew and loved that. But…with _this,_ she…needed help. But the _kind_ of help that he knew how to offer…was not something he thought he was ready to bring up. Sometimes he thought he caught glimpses of it in Cloda too, but then quickly dismissed it as being a case of seeing what he _wanted_ to see.

"Boss?"

Gibbs blinked.

He'd forgotten he wasn't alone. Glancing up he took in the rather confused looking expression on Tony's face as he stared over at him and raised a brow. "Yeah, DiNozzo?" he muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed at the thoughts that had been running through his hand whilst he sat in the midst of his trio. Tony took a breath and Gibbs caught the encouraging nods that were directed towards him by McGee and Ziva and had an idea where this was going.

He hadn't even noticed the time.

"Can we call it a day now?" Tony pleaded, "I can't _take_ anymore."

Snorting, Gibbs nodded and stood. "Get out of here, I'll see you lot in the morning. Keep your cell's on." Grabbing his sports jacket and throwing himself into it, he headed to the lift before they had even moved a muscle. Stepping into the metal cage, he rolled his eyes when the barely concealed whisper of "you're _still_ telling me he's not getting some, McGee? Did you even know he could move that fast?"

"DiNozzo!"

The doors slid shut on a muted "my bad, boss," that he didn't allow himself to laugh at until he was completely out of view. Still chuckling as he made his way to his car, the smile grew broader when his cell finally pinged. Kicking the car into action and steering to the direction of the hospital, Gibbs whistled a merry tune. He was being dragged to some god awful film tonight, but he found he didn't care. The presence of her, the mere hint of her scent…was more than enough.

He rolled his eyes at his foolishness.

"Quit acting like a damned teenage girl you moron," he muttered to himself in mock chagrin, as he eventually sailed into the hospital car lot. Killing the engine and sliding out of the car, a quick scan told him she wasn't out yet. Leaning against the car as was now his custom he made mental notes of what he had to do the next day. Case or no case, he wasn't sitting through another day in the bull pen. Glancing up, he suddenly saw Cloda emerging from the mouth of the hospital and his still present grin faltered.

She was as white as the whitest of sheets.

Swallowing, he set across the lot, intent on meeting her and throwing his arm around her until he got her to the car safely. And then straight to the nearest restaurant. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and it was the only sign of her life evident in her beautiful face. He'd seen cadavers with a healthier complexion. Nearing her, he held out his arms.

And that was when the three doctors and two nurses suddenly raced out from behind her.

Gurney clasped between them and running at a pace more suited to Olympian's, they flew past Cloda with thunderbolt speed. One nurse, in her haste accidentally clipped the surgeon on the shoulder as she barrelled past. For a person who _hadn't_ spent the best part of nearly fifteen hours on their feet and who _had_ eaten a morsel of food, it more than likely wouldn't have been a problem. But for someone who had only found time to throw down one solitary slice of toast in a near twenty four hour passing, and then spent the day exercising both their limbs and brain…it was not.

She staggered.

And Gibbs shot forward.

She half slumped, half fell into his arms. His grip instantly became all encompassing as he held her to him, taking care to keep a looser hold on her potentially throbbing shoulder. She recovered in his soft, yet secure grasp and shook her head with a tinge of utter bemusement. Blinking up at him out of those devastatingly green eyes, she sucked in a gentle little breath. Gibbs' gaze was all consuming, and she didn't need to be a doctor to know he was searching her for any hint of injury.

Her heart did that damned little misstep.

"Guess I forgot…food," she mumbled in frank explanation, snuggling into his arms, "how was your day?"

There was no answer, and she looked up once more.

Before a little gulp escaped her.

There was still concern and an almost indecent gentleness brimming in those blue eyes that gazed down on her, warm in his arms. His stare was still as soft as it always was, communicating what he could not with his words. But there…was something else there now…and she knew she wasn't imagining it. She knew it wasn't just her own interpretation staring down at her. There, nestled amongst the care, concern and consideration that had greeted her summation of food intake for the day, was another emotion.

She swallowed again.

There was no mistaking it.

…it was anger.

…..

TBC

…..

A/N: Thoughts?

(Other stories will be updated soon!)


	3. Truth and Tagliatelle

It was sticky, this moment…and she knew it. Sitting in the car beside a taut looking Gibbs, Cloda felt her stomach do the familiar dance. But this time, it wasn't the usual somersault of new beginnings and all the butterflies that went with it. This time, she was _nervous._ He seemed completely calm, completely in control of himself as always…but, there was a burning. She could see it now, even in the corners of his blue eyes. They were blazing. And not in the passionate way she was slowly growing used to, no.

This was the kind of blazing she had seen only once during their short tenure.

And that was in the immediate aftermath where she had patched up his Tony after he turned up at Gibbs' house in a relatively bloodied state. The wounds though on the surface had been guttural, were superficial in nature. She had him patched up in twenty or so minutes, and looked up from the agent expecting Gibbs to be visibly relieved.

And he was.

But he was also _angry._

She had watched him then, as she stepped back. She had watched how… _gentle_ he became with his agent. Something she hadn't seen the first time team Gibbs had traipsed into her office. She had watched how he had spoken to Tony in low, assuring tones. Had gotten the full story from him about the suspect who had jumped him, how he was connected to the case. She had watched as Gibbs' jaw tightened so hard and so fast she had feared for his orthodontic health. She had watched as he had carefully schooled his features as he placed a hand on Tony's shoulder, and gently helped him to his feet, the young man bound to spend the night in the guest room.

As she had watched, she had learned two valuable things.

Gibbs could be as protective as a momma bear, and the people under his command were _not_ just people under his command.

It didn't take a genius to see it.

They were his family.

And she had instantly fallen deeper in love with him for it.

Now though, with that anger burning and bubbling so clearly under the veneer of total serenity, her stomach continued to assail her. What if he didn't want to be with her anymore? What if the idea of being with a woman who seemingly failed to grasp the concept of basic survival was too much for him? What if he were driving her home now, to say a gruff goodbye and a meaningless _see you around?_

She shook her head subtly and scowled inwardly.

She was acting like a pre-teen. She felt her mouth set into the pursed up line that always predicated a hard decision. Sitting there, she came to the conclusion that she was having _none_ of it. So, she had forgotten to eat a meal, or five. Hardly relationship disintegration worthy. There was… _something_ addictive about the man beside her, and she was damned if she was going to lose him over the absence of a tuna fish salad. She'd always gotten what she wanted. Not in an entitled way, oh no…but in a _hard work pays off kind of way_. And she was willing to work for what she was passionate about.

Very willing.

It's how she was where she was, the only woman to achieve the surgical and political feat by her age in DC history. She had wanted that position with a ferocity that was unrivalled, and now…now she wanted _him_ with that same damned fierceness. So, no…he wasn't going to say any such thing, because she wasn't going to-

" _Earth_ to _Cloda?"_

She blinked.

And turned.

And blinked again.

His eyes were still so soft, and so was his voice. His posture towards her was open, not closed off. She didn't need to have been the top in her psych rotation class to know that this was the stance of concern. She sucked in a breath, and tilted her head to the side in confusion. She hadn't heard him say a word, so lost was she to her own inner conversation. Usually her concentration would enable her to have a conversation with herself, him and an international summit and still have a kind word for the stray cat that frequented the hospital. But usually she had more than one hundred calories to get her through the day.

Stalled at a red light, Gibbs felt his frustrated concern mount even higher. Usually Cloda was as sharp as a tack. Now…her beautiful hair caught the sunsets glow as she cocked her head in confusion. She hadn't even heard him. Grateful for the traffic and red light, he reached out and laid a warm hand on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I said…where would you like to go for dinner? You want to go to that pasta joint you like? Across town?"

It was a serious schlep to that side of the city, but he knew how much she liked the food there and right now getting food _into_ her was his top priority. He watched as she nodded with a slightly sheepish smile, and he felt himself melt slightly. She was so… _infuriating._ She needed to _eat._ Pushing the car forward, he felt himself war internally. This was getting worse. When they had first met, she didn't eat much during the working day, but she did eat _enough._ Now…she was like a one woman quest against nutrition.

And it wasn't that she planned it, it was the she was _plan-less._

As he drove, faster than any police officer would approve of him, his mind rankled. He knew of a way to begin to solve the issue, but he did _not_ know of a way to bring it up. He didn't even know a way that _knew_ of a way to _begin_ to bring it up. Familiar insecurities dogged him as he drove, for the first time not giving Cloda his rapt attention when she spoke. He "hmmm'd," and "humm'd," in the right places, but his mind was far away.

And yet, it still it rested solely upon her.

Fifteen minutes later saw the two seated in their bordering on usual booth, menus in hand. Gibbs cast his aside, knowing he would have plain pasta. Seeing as it was about the only thing he recognised on the menu. The young waiter shuffled over and greeted them warmly, his eyes lingering on Cloda, before turning to Gibbs with an uncontrollably raised brow. The agent barely suppressed an amused snort. This wasn't unusual. His grey hair and her fiery locks made him look _quite_ a bit older than she.

Though in reality it was only seven years between them.

Placing their orders, Gibbs heaved a sigh of relief when Cloda ordered a mountain and a half of pasta.

She would be fed and foddered tonight, at least.

With a last flourish of a pen and a last bewildered look between the seated couple, the waiter breezed off to the kitchen, leaving Cloda free to finally burst into laughter. "He thinks you're my much _, much_ older brother, you know that right?" she teased, the smell of food alone perking her back up to her usual banter like personality. Across the table Gibbs tossed his eyes into the air and shook his head with a grin. "Cheeky pup," he admonished in an off the cuff playfulness, and the result was instantaneous.

She felt her stomach flip.

She felt her knees shudder and tremble in furious anticipation.

Over the fake flowers, Gibbs felt his own eyes widen a fraction. Did he just see what he _thought_ he just saw? Or was it another case of seeing what he wanted to see? But…his years on the job made him less susceptible to the latter than most. He could have sworn he saw her green eyes shoot open at his teasing. He could have sworn he felt the table cloth ruffle in a nonexistent wind. He could have sworn one hand flew to her stomach.

He could have sworn…

The jug of iced water appeared out of nowhere, with a flourish and the mandatory basket of bread. Placing a glass in front of Cloda, the waiter gave a very unsubtle wink as he poured for her, leaving Gibbs' glass stubbornly empty as he sauntered off from their very private booth. Snorting, she took up the jug and poured out some for a highly amused Jethro, her hand shaking with barely contained mirth.

"Maybe he thought you wouldn't make it back to the retirement home if you had too much?"

Gibbs stared for a moment.

…and then acted on instinct.

As she withdrew her hand from his glass, her eyes brimming with mischief, he reached forwards. Expertly, but gently catching her hand in his, he took a quick breath before very subtly landing a brisk swat on her outstretched wrist. The connection of flesh on flesh was electric. It produced a crackling static that had both of them staring.

Gibbs recovered first.

"Maybe you ought to respect your elder's then, young lady," he managed to tease with a drawl, his eyes twinkling like blue pools in his handsome face. The moment the words were out of his mouth, and his hand returned to his side of the table, his heart stilled in his chest. A sickening feeling spread throughout him. Why did he do that? What would she _think_ about him doing that? Was it too pushy, too forward? Was it…

Her blush caught his inner voice off guard.

She was even more damned beautiful when her cheeks lit up like that.

At the other side of the rather aged and plastic petunia, Dr O'Brien was, for once, at a loss for words. Her heartbeat pounded so ferociously she half expected ripples to appear on the smooth surface of her water. Her wrist, where he had touched, seemed to burn. Not with pain per se, but with a stinging desire that resonated throughout her whole being. A tingling sensation that spread from her pale skin, surging its way up through her spinal cord.

A perfect collision of fear and lust, barrelling headlong down the highway of nerves and newness.

She stared at him, her eyes wide and expressive but no words fell out of her rosebud lips. She was struck down with the verbal drought he had suffered his whole life from, and he instinctively waded in to help.

"Something you want to tell me, Cloda?"

There.

A simple, direct question. Intensely grateful for the high levels of privacy their booth afforded them, Gibbs never took his eyes off his companion. He could practically hear her mind whir under her amber locks, accompanied by the thud of his own heartbeat. He couldn't take back what he had just done, what he had just exposed. Sure, he could probably brush it off as a joke if she took it in the way his inner voice was screaming at him she would, but…he didn't find that option all that appealing. He _wanted_ to be open with her.

Which for him was no easy feat.

"Is there something _you_ want to tell _me_?" she suddenly countered softly, not daring to bare all and reveal that which she had to bite back from spewing forth. Perhaps she had just misunderstood his playful swatting and scolding. She couldn't risk babbling about all which she _could_ babble; if it turned out he was just screwing around as he waited for his dinner. She couldn't bear that. She just…couldn't. And so…she countered with a protective ploy.

He smiled softly at her.

She could quite literally feel her pupils dilate as she drank him in.

He was… _knowing._

"Oh I think you know what you want to tell me," Gibbs answered quietly, deciding on instinct that…somehow, _this_ was the time. It was literally all or nothing. And as far as he was concerned, he was all in. It terrified him how easily and intensely he was falling for this woman, but he couldn't bring himself to care. She was an intoxicant, an addiction…he had to have her.

"I don't think I know any such thing," she whispered slowly, her green eyes blazing with an irrepressible desire. Her heart was racing and pounding against her chest. When she had stepped into this restaurant, this was the very last thing she was expecting. Truth, amongst all the tagliatelle was something she could happily deal with however, _if_ it was a truth that she wanted to hear. That she _needed_ to hear.

His smile, if possible, became even softer.

"I don't think that's true Cloda," he pressed, "I think there _is_ something you want to tell me. Something you _need_ to tell me. And just as we're on the subject, I'm still not one bit happy about you not eating a thing today. It's probably not a good idea to make things any worse for yourself by adding lying to the list. You know how I feel about lying, right Clo?"

He snapped his mouth shut then, and tilted his head at her inquisitively. His heart was pulsating against his rib cage, but outwardly he appeared to be as calm as a summer's pond. He had deliberately, yet instinctively spoken the way he had spoken. He was giving her an in, whilst using her affectionate nickname to remind her she was safe with him.

Always.

Her eyes were impossibly wide now as she battled the raging sensations that were spreading throughout her entire being. "How…how did you know?" she eventually managed to stutter, with her cheeks so aflame that in conjunction with her hair she was suddenly as crimson as a sunburnt radish. Gibbs sucked in a breath through his teeth. She was even more outrageously gorgeous to him like that. Reaching out across the table, he cupped her slim, talented hands in his muscular grasp.

"I'm an agent," he explained simply, "reading people is what I do."

He paused, drinking her in, before taking a risky plunge.

"And…when you're already on the same page as another person, they're a hell of a lot easier to read."

The sharp intake of breath in the face of a crystal clear profession was quickly stifled. Staring with a sudden shyness back at him, Cloda felt her cheeks fire up to near combustible levels. "You…are?" she queried nervously, causing him to squeeze her hands affectionately. "I think you know I am," he answered with that calmness she so loved, "I think you've picked up things about me and have thought about them, trying to figure out if I am or not."

She spluttered.

"I think _you've_ picked up things about me and have thought about them, trying to figure out if _I_ am or not too."

He laughed then, his chuckle sending the butterflies to cross continental migration levels in her stomach.

"I don't mind entering a guilty plea on that score," he admitted gently, his heart light in his chest. Before she could formulate an answer, two towering plates of pasta suddenly twirled around their heads. Placing the dishes down, the waiter refilled Cloda's water, once again pretending like Gibbs wasn't actually sitting so close to her that their knees were touching underneath the frilly tablecloth. The agent suddenly felt a warmth of gratitude towards the waiter. Somehow…he had been the catalyst for revelations, and as he set Cloda's drink down in front of her, he smiled widely at him.

Anton huffed as he threw his service cloth over his shoulder and strutted off.

That stunning redhead was clearly just into older men.

Her loss.

Eying the steaming plate of pasta in front of her, and seeing the way she was ignoring it to stare at him, Gibbs shook his head firmly. "Eat," he commanded, but in a soft tone of concern. "You are pale from the hunger, and I want that plate cleaned before we leave here." Glancing down the plate as if it were a complete absurdity, she shook her head.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she murmured, toying with the pasta on her fork, and looking up at the man across from her that she suddenly felt a truck load closer to. It absolutely confounded her that twenty or so minutes could bring two people out of the shadows and into the brightness. She wanted him. And she wanted him _now._

She did _not_ want _pasta._

"Cloda," Gibbs murmured quietly, his voice still managing to carry a damning ring of authority that made her very ovaries quake inside her, "you need to eat." He took a deep breath, and considering the wealth of success the night had brought so far, went for the kill.

"I am bringing you home after this, and we have…a _lot_ to talk about. Now, I like to have fun with…this," he stopped to shoot a grin at her, causing her to bite her lip eagerly. "And trust me, there _will_ be a _lot_ of fun, if you want there to be." He sobered once more, and the calm authority that hung about her forced Cloda's legs into trembling with burning anticipation once again. "But, not eating all day, when you promised me you would…well, that falls into the _not_ so fun category. And it looks like we'll be starting off with that. And trust me, I'm a fair guy, but your…well being and safety…" he faltered, looking at her with brimming expressive eyes, "well it's damned important to me Clo…damned important."

He paused once more, his natural commanding presence swinging its way back to him.

"So eat that dinner please. You don't want to make me any crosser with you about food."

Cloda felt her knees knock against each other as she picked up her fork.

"The not so fun category?" she queried with an oddly delicious nervousness, as he took a long drink, unused to so much _talking._

Nodding, he set his glass down and his eyes burned with the same caring she had seen when he had tended to Tony. She knew it to be medically impossible, but she felt all the bones in her legs literally melt away as they slumped against each other with an anticipation that she had quite frankly never experienced before in her entire life.

"Well, there's fun yes?" he answered quietly, and images of _fun_ raced around her mind as she nodded eagerly, her pulse racing. His crooked smile at her clear yearning just forced her poor heart into even more unnatural rhythms, before he sobered and cocked his head at her with his commanding presence clear in the line of his strong jaw.

"And then there's discipline."

…..

TBC

…..

A/N: I know my updates aren't as frequent as usual, and it's for two reasons. One, I'm just insanely busy recently between life and upcoming exams and the whole nine yards. Two, I feel the quality of my writing is a bit iffy at the moment, and I'd rather post nothing at all than post drivel. Having said that, "In Loco Parentis," is next up for an update I think, and the rest will follow. Sacrificial Intelligence is at a bit of a standstill, but I will finish it. So, a massive thank you to those who've reviewed and pm'd about the more infrequent updates, I'm doing my best to get back to my usual swing but for both reasons it's just a bit all over the place atm.

-Inks.


	4. The Talk

As the door creaked slowly open, Cloda felt her heart increase in its already erratically pulsating rhythm. The sound of the oak slowly snapping shut seemed to echo like a thunderbolt around the darkened home. His warmth, as he reached around her to flick on the light switch caused her breath to still in her throat. The remainder of dinner, the drive back to his place… had all passed her by in a blur. Now though, she was acutely aware of every neuron of her being. Her every nerve was on spine tingling alert. She could practically visualise her pulse as it thudded headily under her pale skin.

He felt incredibly broad behind her slim frame as he gently nudged her into the living room, flicking on more lights as they went. "Sit," he murmured gently, propelling her into what had already become her favourite spot in his house. "I'll be right back." The retreating frame of his wide shoulders seemed to dance in her eyes as she struggled to get her breathing back on an even keel. He had been nothing but gracious and gentle since truths had come tumbling out in a way that she had never envisaged. She still felt raw, unadulterated shock as she digested how easily he had extracted information from her. How _natural_ it felt talking to him…about things…she'd never spoken about.

Not really.

Not wholly.

Not ever.

She supposed, as she drew her slim legs under her chin and rested her buzzing head upon them, that it was probably all a part of his makeup. He oozed a natural command, an emphatic dominance. It was in his poise, it was in his eyes. It was in his employment history. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a man born to lead. Of that, she was sure. She felt the familiar sense of conflict as she closed her eyes, drawing her legs closer to her, a habit of her childhood. She flushed as she tried desperately to reconcile her public and private personas, knowing she would have no more success this time than she had done the thousands that had preceded it.

She was a strong, career driven, intelligent woman. She had taken down self assured macho man, after self assured sexist, misogynistic jackass. She had wielded a searing sword, cutting through the stench of bureaucracy and glass ceilings to get where she was. She commanded respect. It just wasn't as _natural_ for her as it was him. She had worked at it, perfected it. She had laid siege to the notion that she could be walked over. Male and female surgeons, the top in their game, trembled in her wake. And she wouldn't, she _couldn't_ deny that she damned well loved it.

And yet…she _ached_ from her responsibilities.

She suffocated under the weight of them at times.

Lives, hundreds of lives. Careers, hundreds of careers.

They all rested in her open palms.

And at times…she was so exhausted from it all she couldn't even stumble to her bed. There were times when she barely made it to the couch, her shoulders aching the phantom pain of the stress that rested upon them. She would sleep fitfully, her body screaming for nutrition, her mind too besieged and wearied to source it. She sighed as she digested the familiar conundrum. How could she, as a self professed fearsome career woman, crave what she so badly craved? Her cheeks lit up as she drew in a shaky breath. It wasn't right, was it? For her to want…for her to _need_ to let go of that responsibility she had clawed her way too. For her to _need_ to lay that weight down at the feet of someone else.

Someone as strong as her. But in a different way.

Someone like…him.

Her eyes suddenly snapped open.

He was back.

The hot tea, her favourite, was pressed into her hands with that crooked smile that made her ovaries shiver inside her. He slipped down on the sofa beside her, and threw a casual arm around her slim shoulders. Drawing her to him, the relaxing of the tense torso was instantaneous. His wooden smell, his warmth was too much of an allure. She nuzzled instinctively into him, and his affectionate chuckle was melodious in its ring.

She melted as his lips press into her hair, his hot breath like a mini massage and let out a contented sigh.

"How're we doing in here?"

She buried into the crook of his neck and muttered something incomprehensible. Rolling his eyes affectionately, Gibbs gently prised her from him, but continued to hold her. She looked up, put out at her removal, but sobered at his scorching gaze. "I think…" he began slowly, running a hand up and down her thigh absentmindedly, "that you and I need to have a little talk." At her immediate flush, he shook his head slowly. "I love that look on you," he mumbled, moving to run a gentle hand over her firm cheekbones, "but I don't want you to be embarrassed."

He straightened up, and looked down at her intently and the flashing in his eyes screamed sincerity.

"You have _nothing_ to be embarrassed about, do you understand me?"

She felt her air shut off slightly as she nodded jerkily, her mind not allowing for conscious thought. Nodding in approval, Gibbs took a deep breath. Whilst he sensed that this was an awkward conversation for Cloda, it wasn't all that easy for him either. He hadn't felt…hadn't been pulled to someone like this before. He'd been in a relationship before…where he'd taken a level of control. And it had been wonderful, but three entire years of it paled in comparison to the pull Cloda had on him. His urge to protect, but not to control, was palpable.

And her need to be protected, but not controlled, never controlled, was equally as blazing.

He just needed to unlock it.

For both of them.

"At the restaurant," he hedged quietly, "when I slapped your wrist for being a pup…" he paused to grin at her and her knees trembled, "you reacted in a way that I… in a way that let me know something about you. Something I guess I'd…hoped for, but never thought could be there. Do you know what I mean?"

Her silent, breathy nod answered him. He felt his pupils dilate at the unconscious parting of her lips.

"There's something about you," he growled, his breath hot and sweet against her face, "something about you that drives me _crazy._ I'm like a stupid kid when it comes to you. You're so strong, intelligent…" he pulled her closer to him and felt her heartbeat thunder against his chest, "You're a self sufficient, successful woman. And I admire the hell out of that. I do. But there's a part of me…that wants to protect you…from everything." He smiled that embarrassed smile of his and she felt her organ constrict. "Maybe it's my job, maybe it's my nature…." he shrugged, "maybe it's both. But the idea…of _anything_ happening to you…terrifies me."

He pulled her closer still.

"But because you're such a strong woman…I suppose I didn't think you'd ever…" he felt a blush colour his own face, "I guess I thought you'd find the idea of me _looking out for you_ …for your safety, offensive, I guess. But…when you kept forgetting to eat, when you continued to put your health at risk for no reason, those…feelings, they grew. And I guess that's what happened at the restaurant tonight…I couldn't hide it any longer. And…I don't think you could either," he stared down intently, before adding a quiet, "am I right?"

She stilled against his firm torso.

He hadn't explicitly said _anything,_ and yet he'd implicitly said _everything._

Her sensible side was screaming at her to remain in control, to not admit a damned thing. Information was power; she'd learned that a long time ago. And if you didn't give out that information, you couldn't be hurt by it. She'd given that information out only _one_ before, and it had backfired. It had backfired badly. Her ex husband, he'd eventually brought her to a place where she'd felt comfortable releasing her secret. He had taken it reasonably well, but it had always been…so very _awkward._ It had never been truly reciprocated. In the latter years he had…used that information to wound her. To damage her.

It's why she couldn't believe she sat where she currently sat.

Hearing what she currently hearing.

From a man like the one cradling her in his strong arms.

Her sensible side lost the battle. For the first time in years, reckless abandon seized her and took utter control. Her blush, her fiery red stained cheeks betrayed her answer before she stammered it. Her stuttering, breathless _"yes,"_ was quiet, to the point, and as far as Gibbs was concerned was the most beautiful word, most beautiful voice he'd heard since… Shannon. He squeezed her to him, breathing a sigh of relief into her amber hair.

"That's my girl."

He knew how hard that had been for her. Somehow he knew. There was something there, something she wasn't talking about, something she wasn't ready to talk about. He wouldn't force it. It would come in time. He took a deep breath. "You know I like things to be clear, right?" Her answering wry smile was stunning in its beauty. "You?" she teased, amazed at her ability to feel so comfortably light hearted in their current moment, _"really?"_

He rolled his blue eyes and her stomach mirrored the motion.

"What we're talking about…" he continued quietly, "I need you to be fully aware of what it is, and what it entails. Ok?" She nodded immediately, her gaze not faltering from his face. He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to be honest, to trust his gut that he had been right about this woman that felt so right in his arms.

"What I said back at the restaurant…about there being fun things, and not so fun things…" he faltered as he blushed slightly, but persevered doggedly, "I was talking about…uhm, well…corporal…uhh… spanking and uhh…things, like that. Rules that we'd both agree on and erm…discipline, and such like…" There was a stark silence as his words hung around the room, and she stilled against him. His heart stopped in his chest as she stared at him, that minute gap between her lips, terror suddenly filling him.

Had he been wrong?

Had his gut let him down?

Her peal of laughter, ringing with nervous release was therefore a bit of a shock.

"You're so..." she spluttered, her slim shoulder shaking with mirth, "you're so _cute…"_ she shook her head, still giggling against him before mimicking his voice, "spanking and uhh… _things…"_ His look of shock instantly morphed into relief based exasperation as he shook his head grinningly at her. "Hush," he scolded playfully, "if you think you know a better way to say it _doctor,_ then be my guest. I notice I'm doing the most of the talking here anyhow."

She snorted, her eyes brimming with mischief that felt devastatingly natural in his presence.

"No no…you have the floor. I never knew you could be so _verbal_ when the mood takes you."

He rolled his eyes once more. "Right," he murmured dryly, "that's it you pup. You need to _take the floor."_ At this, she finished up her giggling and suddenly blushed faintly again. "I don't know what to say," she mumbled, knowing she had to repay Gibbs' honesty. She knew openness wasn't easy for the gruff agent. "It's just…you….I….feel…."

He chuckled.

"Try again."

Nodding, she allowed herself to snuggle into his chest once more. It was easier to talk to her knees as she rested into him, his arm around her, and he didn't object. "I guess I've always had…thoughts about a certain type of relationship," she confessed quietly, fidgeting with the cuffs of her shirt, "and you…you're uhh…the type, I guess?"

He cocked his head.

"The type?"

Her deepened blush was unseen, but he knew it was spreading across her face. Squeezing her gently, he cleared his throat. "Cloda, what did I say about there being _no_ need to be embarrassed?" he asked rhetorically, "it's just you and me here. Anything that comes out of your mouth will never, ever leave this house. I give you my word." He ran a hand through her hair, and her blush began to melt away. "You're safe now," he breathed, "you're safe with me. I promise."

She had never believed a promise more.

"You're so strong," she whispered, scarcely daring to believe her need to explain, "I _feel_ safe with you. I feel like…I don't always have to be in charge of everything with you around. I feel…lighter, with you. You take control, but you don't suffocate. You're… _firm,_ without controlling me. You care about me, without…infantilising me. You…" she trailed off, uncertain how to phrase it. "You're just… _you."_

He was stunned for a moment.

Before instinct over took him and she was enveloped in his grasp.

"Proud of you," he whispered into her hair, "I know that wasn't easy to say." He pulled back and smiled down at her. Looking up at him, she was surprised when the blush didn't surge to her cheeks. "You don't think I'm…weak?" she asked quietly, her base fear coming to the surface without her actually meaning it to. It was her biggest anxiety. That when she confessed her leanings to Gibbs, with him being so naturally dominant, he would find her need for release a sign of weakness.

His suddenly ferocious expression therefore startled her.

"You are _not_ weak," he growled, "I don't ever want you thinking that again. You…" he paused, unused to such massive and unexpected bouts of speech, "are an incredibly strong woman. You carry a _weight_ with your job and your life, and it needs to be put down every now and again. It's not a sign of weakness to admit what you need; it's a sign of _strength._ You need to let go, and I need to _not_ let go. It's just…who we are. It's in our make-up. It's just how it is. It's who you are, and it's who I am."

He paused, holding her tighter than ever before.

"It's who _we_ are."

There was a silencing quiet in the wake of his words. Blue eyes locked with green as uncharacteristic openness and vulnerability seeped from the intertwined torsos. Cloda's mind was whirring. Her anticipation of being thought of as odd, as a freak had been wrenched from her. His soothing, self assured voice bore into her every neuron. His few words could be boiled down to one of the most therapeutic things she had ever heard in her life.

 _It's ok to be you._

She felt her chest lighten.

She felt the beginnings of years of self doubt and flagellation stir from her core.

She felt hope.

"There's so much to talk about Clo," Gibbs muttered, tracing a hand up and down her arm, "we're barely scratching the surface here, but we have all the time in the world. We can learn as we go." He glanced gently down upon her, her frame warm and solid against him. He savoured that feeling. "You feeling a little better about all this now?" he asked softly, his need to put her first shining through as normal. His own mind was keening under her evaluation of him, of what he did for her. It sent a flutter of light throughout him, awakening a need that yearned to be fulfilled for years.

She nodded instinctively.

"I guess it's amazing what one conversation can do."

His laughter was soft.

"I _am_ renowned for my love of talking."

Her laugher was spluttering, and his smile grew even more crooked.

She sobered suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Uhh…the whole not erm…eating thing from tonight…are we letting that go as a…learning experience?"

He mirrored her solemnity, as he traced a thumb over her lips, gently silencing her.

"Nope," he corrected quietly, "we're not. But what _is_ going to happen _will_ be a learning experience."

She stilled, resting a hand on his chest and pushing herself up to lock her gaze with his.

"What's… going to happen?"

He pulled her close once more, and sighed into her thick mop of hair as she willingly melted in his arms once more.

"We're going to talk some more….because I would never, ever do anything you're not completely happy with. I'd never, ever do something that could hurt you...but I think I know what you need, but you're free to correct me if I'm wrong. OK?" he trailed off as she peeked up at him through her thick locks, her eyes seeking a truth that he knew he had to deliver on and her confident nod spurred him on. Taking another lungful of air, he tugged her to him, tighter still, the feel of her so naturally natural. He knew that his moment was a pinnacle turning point, and that the future of their relationship teetered upon the foundations he built with his words and his actions.

He wouldn't let her down.

Not ever.

His gut had never let him down before, and he knew it was telling him the truth now.

This woman, this complex, beautiful woman in his arms was a part of his life now. She was his priority, she was his light. Their relationship would no doubt be fraught with unknowns, but he instinctively knew what he needed, and she needed. And they would work it out.

It would be everything it could possibly be.

He was resolutely determined.

Tracing her chiselled cheekbones with a gentle thumb, he tipped her head carefully back and locked his eyes with hers. He sucked in some air, and his natural dominance, his natural knack for taking charge, for knowing what to say and do kicked in. She needed specifics. She needed to know _exactly_ what was going to happen.

She needed him to take charge now, to lead.

To trust himself to give her what she needed.

He knew that about her.

And he was more than happy to oblige.

He held her closer still, and opened his mouth, his voice ringing with the authority and words...his _words_ that made everything that could tingle; jingle and jangle explode like dynamite within her, her mouth forming a perfect, rose budded _"oh."_

"…and then, Cloda, I'm going to put you straight over my knee. I'm going to flip up your skirt. I'm going to pull your panties down to your ankles. And then, pup; I'm going to give you the bare bottom spanking you've been spoiling for since the day I first laid eyes on you."

…

TBC

…

 _A/N: I know there's a lot of build up here, but I want to actually establish their relationship rather than just rush into it. I just feel it's more believable/natural that way. I'm planning on this being a relatively long multi-chapter, so building the relationship is important, pacing wise. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, update should be soon as I've closed off a lot of my other stories._

 _Please let me know what you guys think, this is seriously out of my comfort zone! I literally blushed writing the last part!_

-Inks


	5. The New Beginning

The breath stilled in her throat. Her pupils dilated and her heart fluttered over a beat. His arm was still draped warmly around her shoulders and she was firmly in his grasp. When she looked back, in months and years to come…she'd realise that in that moment, she was as mentally within his cusp as she was physically. He didn't say anything, didn't breathe a syllable. He allowed his words to hover in the air like the remnants of crackling wildfire. She felt no pressure to respond immediately, the silence was comfortable, thoughtful.

Unpressured.

His statement whirred around her mind. She felt her butterflies take a dive as she focussed on his new pet name. She wasn't quite sure where "pup," had come from, but she unerringly knew she loved it. Her butterflies expanded their wings as the rest of his words floated around, and she felt his arms squeeze gently around her.

"What did I say about being embarrassed?"

She paused in her thoughts, chewed her lip unconsciously, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"And _who_ say's I'm embarrassed?" she challenged.

Gibbs raised a brow and matched her smirk, muscle for muscle.

"The colour of your face right now?" he teased lightly, tracing a broad thumb over her burning cheeks fondly. "Like I said, it's a cute look on you…" he pulled her closer into his chest, and bent down to murmur in her ear "but I know two other cheeks' I'd rather see this shade of red on."

Her blush was as fast as it was furious.

His chuckle was as light as it was breathy.

"Gibbs: 1 - Pup: 0."

"You know it's a sign of a sociopath to refer to yourself in the third person, right?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You know it's a sign of a little rip to back-chat in this situation, right?"

Her flush was back, though not quite as furious.

He tightened his arm around her and swept a lock of hair from her eyes. For a self confessed emotional nonentity, he couldn't bring himself to believe how easy this was. It was like breathing. She was like breathing. He didn't have to watch what he said, she was tough, and she had a sense of humour. Her cheeky wit was refreshing and kept him challenged. He couldn't abide weak, spineless individuals…of which his Cloda was most certainly not.

"So…" he murmured, not wanting to let the moment pass them, "you want to talk about this?"

She tilted her head back and studied him for a moment, before nodding slowly.

"Ok…" he removed his arm from her shoulders, and carefully nudged her forwards. Indicating towards the futon directly in front of their perch, he disentangled himself further. "You stay put," he instructed, and she instantly noted a certain change in his voice, "I'm going to move there."

Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be prodded forwards and watched as he swung himself off the sofa and away from her. She suddenly felt a chill. She hadn't realised how warm he was, how much heat she had garnered from his torso. And she wasn't sure why he'd suddenly decided their seating arrangement was inadequate. Her feelings must have been playing upon her face, because as he settled himself down opposite her, he raised a brow.

"We're about to talk about something serious here," he explained quietly, "we can't do that if you're dozing off in my arms. So, I need you to sit up straight and pay attention. Understand?"

The certain change was now a _dead_ certain change.

Slowly, she righted herself, sitting upright. Their knees nearly grazed each other as she locked eyes with him. Nerves suddenly coated her insides, sending her every fibre tingling with apprehension. He was eying her carefully now, taking in her every move, gesture and grimace. His gaze reminded her forcibly of the new and improved MRI scanner they had recently received.

She felt a sudden jolt of sympathy for her patients.

He waited with a silent patience as she unfurled herself, beginning to feel a small ball of nerves in his stomach. He had a natural knack for taking the lead, but…it didn't mean that he didn't sometimes doubt himself. Mostly, that was ok. Because save for his team, he didn't really give a damn about that many people. But the woman across from him now…he sure as hell cared about.

He cared a hell of a lot.

"Cloda…" he began, and he heard his voice slip into the lower register that always preceded a reprimand at the office, but this tone…was also homely in nature. He hadn't heard it from his own mouth in years, and at that…it had never come this easy. "We need to talk some more about the consequences I was talking about. The consequences of your continual refusal to eat, and take basic care of yourself."

She opened her mouth in protest, but he silenced her with a look that made her knees tremble.

"I need you to understand," he continued quietly, and yet with a deafening authority, "that when I say I'm going to give you a spanking, I _mean_ I'm going to give you a _spanking._ I'm not just going to lay a few love taps across your behind. It'll hurt, and it won't be fun. There are plenty of ways to _have_ fun with…all this, but something like this…will never be fun. Something like this, and anything else that puts you in harm's way, will never be fun…because it'll be a punishment."

He took a great lungful of air.

"Do you understand?"

Cloda sat in a state of moderate shock. The way he had slipped so seamlessly from teasing, chuckling Gibbs to stern and scolding Gibbs was astounding. And…what was more astounding, what really got her…was that if felt so natural. It felt as though they'd sat in this very room hundreds of times before, with their knees are touching. It felt as though she'd been on the receiving end of that intense stare and those firm words since the very first time they'd met.

It was as reassuring as it was terrifying.

"I understand," she whispered, her words catching in her throat. How she had got here, professing her comprehension of impending punishment with the very man whom she'd feared she'd drive away with it, she didn't know. "I…this is….uhh…."

He allowed himself a gentle smile and a quick, warm squeeze to her knee.

"It's all a bit new?"

She nodded.

"Just a bit."

He looked at her intently for what seemed like an eternity, examining her every twitch. "Make me a promise?" he suddenly asked, and the intensity in his voice was a match for the intensity etched into his face. "Make me an honest promise?"

Her nod was unhesitant and uncompromising.

"The minute that I say anything, or the _second_ I _do_ anything that makes you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable, you tell me. I don't care if you whisper it to me, scream it at me or draw me a damned picture about it. You _need_ to _tell_ me. I mean it, Cloda," he ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, "I would never risk hurting you, physically or mentally…but you gotta work with me to make sure that doesn't happen. Ok? You think you can promise me that?"

She stared.

The care, the concern in his voice was staggering. Coming from a man who just three minutes ago was promising consistent punishment for self deprecating wrongdoing, it was intense. And she felt her butterflies take off in a leap of joy, that she would later come to realise was more of a leap of faith. He was asking her, in no uncertain terms, this man who struggled with his emotions…to do this for him. For the sole purpose of keeping herself safe, both in mind and body.

She'd read, perhaps in her darkest and loneliest days…that love with longevity was born out of a slow enamouring. A drip here, and a drab there. In that moment, as she stared back into his impossibly open blue eyes, she felt a whole truck load of drip, and a whole truck load of drab. She exhaled slowly, a breath she hadn't realised she held captive.

"I promise."

His smile was devastatingly genuine and soul crushingly crooked.

It was rapidly becoming one of the things she positively adored about him.

"Should I take it that nothing I've said so far has made you uncomfortable then?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak…hoping her eyes would convey what her words could not. He searched her face silently for a moment, assessing, appraising. Before returning her nod accompanied with a quiet "good."

He breathed in deeply, and opened his mouth once more.

"Before we go any further, there's something I need to make sure you're crystal clear on, ok?"

Once again, her silent nod and focussed eyes was enough for him.

"Like I said Cloda, if I spank you tonight, it's a punishment. We're going to talk some more, don't worry, but…nonetheless, it is what it is. For it to be…effective, for it to teach you what I want it to teach you…you can't be in control of it. What I'm saying is…" he trailed off, hesitating for just a moment, "what I'm saying is…that your punishment is over when _I_ say it's over. Because, trust me, before I'm done, you're going to want me to stop."

He locked her in his gaze.

"By agreeing…to this, by giving me permission to try and help you, and us, in this way…you're agreeing to that. You're agreeing to trust me. To trust me to know when to stop, to know when you've had enough. I will know, I promise you that I'll know. I would never give you more than you deserve, or more than you could take. Do you… understand what I'm saying?"

She remained in his gaze, her wide eyes fixed upon him with the same intensity mirrored in them.

"You're asking me to _trust_ you?"

He nodded silently, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest.

She shot him somewhat of an odd look, and he felt his brows shoot up questioningly.

"I've trusted you since day one," she explained quietly, a force in her tone that brooked no contradiction, "I know you'd never…uhm, over-do it. I know you'd just _know…_ when to stop." She sighed in feigned exasperation. "Because you're one of those irritating people who just _knows_ everything…"

He stared, his head tilted to the side, appraising her deeply.

Before snorting.

"You're calling me a know-it-all? Now? _Really?"_

She flashed him a devilish grin, making his stomach flip.

"I'm nothing if not consistent."

He shook his head with a small smirk. "No matter what I do, you're always going to have a smart mouth on you, is that it pup?" Her eyes crinkled with mischief as she shrugged nonchalantly, giving a truthful nod. "Would you prefer me be a doe eyed " _yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir type?"_ she demanded, tilting her head coyly in his direction, her vivid hair falling over her shoulder.

Gibbs shuddered. He couldn't imagine anything worse, or far removed from the woman in front of him."No thanks," he grinned, "you're perfect the way you are, back-chat and all." She flushed proudly as Gibbs swallowed hard and felt his face fall back into lines of firmness.

"So like I said, there's so much to talk about. We could go on forever…but my tonsils are damned near seizing up with all this yakking, so how about we leave the finer details to time and focus on tonight for now, ok?"

"Ok," Cloda agreed softly, also feeling that the time for talking was coming to an end, and she wasn't all that sure how she felt about it. She watched as he rubbed the back of his head in thought. Watched as his trademark polo-shirt stretched against his muscled torso. Watched as he chewed his lip, and as he unconsciously brushed a trace of lint off his chest. Her lips parted of their own accord. Everything he did was effortless, and unplanned and yet his simplest gestures oozed his masculinity.

She was rapidly becoming more and more entrenched in this web they were weaving. Diving headlong into with a gusto, and an ease that she still found staggering in their short juncture. In a traditional context, she supposed that he would be the spider and she would be the fly of this particular web. Feeling her heart increase in an already erratic beat, her eyes fluttered to the floor.

She'd never before been more comfortable to be considered the prey, and not the hunter.

"I'm just going to use my hand," Gibbs continued quietly, slowly, "are you ok with that?"

She stilled, looking at him out of wide eyes. Her pulse caterwauled underneath the thin veneer of skin. Which, she realised, as rather apt. Her skin wasn't doing much to protect her right now. It was apparent, it was clear…that he saw right through her, right to her very core. Saw the things she'd spent years locking away after the disastrous result of her one decision to trust.

She knew now however, that this was no disaster.

This…was the start of something she knew she would treasure for the rest of her life.

"I'm ok with that," she whispered softly, taking a deep breath to steady her jangling nerves. He nodded almost imperceptivity, keeping a keen eye on her every reaction. "Have you ever been spanked before, Cloda? As an adult?"

He sucked in a deep breath.

He didn't want to ask that question. He really didn't. He could sense something in her past that troubled her, and he had a firm suspicion that it was a direct causal link to that which they were currently discussing. But, that was the very reason he _had_ to ask. If he did something…inadvertently, unknowingly…to stir up what he just knew were painful memories, he'd never forgive himself.

Ever.

She twitched slightly under his query, and he cursed himself. "Yes," she mumbled nearly incoherently, a first for her, "but…I don't want to…I….talk about it….no."

"That's ok," Gibbs assured immediately, "that's ok Clo…I only ask, because if I do something that reminds you of something you'd rather not remember, then you tell me. Ok? You tell me _immediately._ You understand that?"

She looked up at him, relief billowing from her eyes. Relief that she wasn't going to be pushed, prodded and poked into recalling that which she desperately wanted to forget. For the first time, Gibbs felt a surge of anger. Someone had hurt her. Someone had damaged her. And it made his blood boil. He had no doubt he would hear about it in time, but for now, he had to carefully hide his rage at the events of years past.

This was a new beginning, for both of them.

"About tonight Cloda," he continued, and he deliberately took the soft, and gentle note out of his voice. "About you not eating, the reason we're here…do you have anything you want to say to me about that?"

She stared at him quietly for a moment, clearly deep in thought.

"I forgot," she eventually admitted, "I just get so busy and it's not a big deal so I just….uh, I just…."

She quailed under his look.

"Not a big deal?" he echoed quietly, "it's not a big deal to deprive yourself of basic bodily needs? It's not a big deal to work in a high pressured environment, both starving and dehydrated? It's not a big deal to routinely ignore your own health and well being just so you can do your job?" He straightened up to his full height in front of her, and she regretted her choice of words immediately. "You want to go with that, do you? You want to stand by that statement, or would you like to have another little think?"

It wasn't really a hard question.

"Another think."

He nodded slowly, eying her with a firmness that made her very soul quiver and shudder.

"I should very well think so, little miss."

 _God._

She loved when he talked to her like that, and she hated when he talked to her like that. Even though it was pretty much the _first_ time he'd ever talked to her like that, it felt like she had heard it before. Been on the receiving end of his caring scolding, before. It was bizarre. With his earlier differentiations between pleasure and punishment, back at the restaurant playing in her mind, she cursed herself.

She wished their first time was destined to be for pleasure.

But it wasn't.

It really wasn't.

"I…get so caught up," she found herself saying, without ever intending to, "I get so you know _involved_ in what I'm doing, that I just forget. I know I'm hungry, and I ignore it. I guess…I guess I'm just used to always trying to be ahead, even of myself." She looked down at her knees, and chewed her lip. "They're always gunning for my job, you know that?" She laughed softly. "My own damned protégés…waiting for me to look like I'm too old, too… _past it."_

She shrugged slightly.

"I guess I'm just trying to keep up with the twenty and thirty something's, because the minute I _can't…_ the minute where I'm too tired or too hungry to keep going, I'm done. Medicine…it isn't what it was when I first started. Now it's all about the prestige and not about the patients." She looked up, and Gibbs saw the faint strains of exhaustion on her face. "None of the people under me are ready to be COS, and I know that one of them _will_ be if I don't stay at the top of my game."

Her sad sigh was hard to hear.

"Guess I'm kidding myself that I can do what I used to…."

Gibbs stared quietly for a moment, much more content with listening than he was talking. He suddenly felt a great degree of empathy for the woman in front of him. Sure, _his_ protégées weren't conspiring to take his place, but if he _did_ have to bow out, Tony was more than ready. But…he did know what it was like to feel like an old man competing in a young man's game. It never, ever showed. Ever. But…he did sometimes feel it. In a take-down, where Tony and Tim could seem to go on forever and ever, his knees screeched in protest.

Sometimes it was only his dogged militarism that drove him on.

"I get that," he said eventually, "I know it can be tough keeping up with the kids that are starting to come through. And I know how much your job means to you Cloda, and I love that about you. I do. But…I cannot and _will_ not stand by and watch you damage your own health for your job. You see that, right? One lunch break a day isn't going to kill your competitiveness, Clo. And you need to know that. You are the COS, you don't need to…. deny yourself to prove yourself."

He shook his head slightly.

"You've already proven yourself, Clo, now it's time to take _care_ of yourself."

He felt his face fall into a slightly stern line.

"And if you can't or won't do that on your own, then you're going to find that I'm there to give you some _motivation._ You understand? And believe me, I'm just as consistent as you are. I don't care if we go through this all day every day, I am not going to stand by and let this kind of behaviour continue any longer. It's done, Cloda. Are we clear? It's done."

In that moment, Cloda O' Brien, had never felt so clear or so safe.

And so light.

So free.

"It's clear," she whispered, feeling a weight leave her shoulders as she spoke. She was wearied, and beleaguered. The weight and physical toil of carrying both herself and other's expectations of her had taken its toll. She needed to let go, to release the pent up frustration and fatigue inside her. She needed a clean slate, because the one she had was just so heavy, and grimy.

She needed to start anew.

And she knew that _he_ knew how to bring that about.

And she trusted him. It scared her, it _terrified_ her how much she trusted him, but…she did.

"Good girl," he praised gently, yet with a stern authority, "now…how about we get this taken care of?"

He extended a large hand, and waited with a cloak of assuredness washing over him. He knew he could help her. He knew what she needed, and what he needed. He knew what _they_ needed. And as she placed her slim hand in his, and he carefully guided her to her feet, he knew that he could give her what they both required.

He released her for just a moment, and a commanding look told her to stay where she was. Crossing into the kitchen, he quickly extracted a straight backed chair. Carrying it back into the living room, he set it down into a wide clearing. He didn't want her banging herself off anything. Turning back to her as she watched him quietly, a slight battle of emotions playing on her face, he caught himself.

He held out his arms, and she immediately buried herself into them.

"Trust me," he breathed into her fiery hair. "I'm going to punish you now, pup, and we both know you need it. You need to _be_ punished, and I need _to_ punish you. But, then it's all done. The minute we're done, it's forgiven and it's over. I'll never hold it against you, ok?"

He took in a breath, feeling her melting in his arms.

"I trust you," she mumbled into his chest, "but…it's…I…."

He looked down at her, but didn't extract her from his chest. "It's what?" he pressed gently, and she blushed furiously into his broad torso.

"What if I…uhh, cry?" she whispered in embarrassment, "you'll think that…." She blushed some more, "you'll think I'm a…."

"An individual who's made some mistakes and is learning from her lesson," Gibbs interjected sternly, so sternly it seemed to vibrate from his defined muscles, making her shiver. "That's what I'll think and that's _all_ I'll think Cloda. A spanking is meant to hurt, crying is absolutely natural and absolutely normal."

He held her at an arm's length and raised a brow down at her, his eyes twinkling with a kind firmness. He could read her like the very complex novel she was. He could see her beginning, and her middle, and he simply hoped and prayed that he would experience the end with her.

This woman…she had him.

She wasn't like the other's after Shannon…she was….a different Shannon, a completely different and challenging woman. For the first time he felt no guilt in truly, _truly_ caring for another woman. It's what she would have wanted for him.

And right now, it was what he desperately wanted for himself.

He cleared his throat.

"And it seems to me that someone around here has needed to cry for a _very_ long time, and hasn't?"

She felt her jaw drop.

"You really _are_ a know-it-all," she grumbled half heartedly, as he drew her back into his arms with a chuckle. For a moment, they said nothing and merely stood there, her breathing relaxing against his chest, her breathing falling in tandem with his. Gibbs felt her calm in his arms, and let her there for as long as it took.

She eventually pulled away, and looked up at him with that strong, determined look he loved.

"I'm ready."

He nodded slowly, and took her hand in his once more, guiding her to the chair that awaited them in the middle of the room. He sat, never letting go of her hand, and pulled her gently to rest in front of his knees. Looking up at her closely, he raised the brow that drove her crazy and felt himself instantly slip into what was so natural for him, and what was so needed for her.

For them.

"Tell me why you're about to punished," he demanded quietly, "tell me why I'm about to put you over my knee and spank you on your bare bottom, long and hard."

She visibly imploded.

"I..well…uhh…."

He shook his head firmly.

"Use your words," he rebuked quietly, "I want a full and frank explanation as to why I'm about to warm that beautiful rump of yours, and I want it now."

The change in him was so stark, and yet it was so seamless. It was as if two Gibbs' lived within the one bodily realm. There was the teasing, laughing and joking Gibbs that she was rapidly growing to wholeheartedly love. Then, there was the stern, yet caring. Firm, yet compassionate Gibbs that she was _also_ rapidly growing to love. The latter was the one she was looking at now. The one that was making her knee's tremble with his gaze and his words.

"Because I promised you I would eat, and I didn't."

He sighed, and his sweet breath washed over her face.

"That was extremely naughty, wasn't it?" he questioned, with such obvious disappointment that Cloda squirmed in his grasp and averted her gaze.

"Oh no you don't, young lady," Gibbs reprimanded quietly, "you look me in the eye and you tell me what you deserve for putting yourself in such pointless ill health, and breaking your promise to me."

 _Naughty? Young lady?_

She felt herself implode further. This man…he was an intoxicant, an addiction. One she hoped she would never, ever be cured of. This was one need she was happy to be bound by.

"Tell me what you need."

She quaked in his grasp, but he refused to let go. Holding her to her plain, both mental and physical.

"To…to be punished."

Her voice remained as steady as it could possibly be in the circumstances. She fought very hard to keep eye contact with him, as he bored into her soul with his gaze. She could feel the now painfully familiar blush splash across her cheeks as she stood in front of him, admitting what she needed. Admitting what she never, ever thought she could admit. To a man she never, ever thought she could have.

"Punished, how?"

Oh god…he was going to make her _say_ it…

She shook her head furiously, and looked at him imploringly.

"Lesson number one, pup, your _puppy eyes_ are adorable. But, they're not going to get you anywhere. If you're standing where you're currently standing, the time for puppy eyes is done. It's over. And when I ask you a question young lady, I want it answered. Is that clear?"

Her knees were in danger of knocking against each other.

"It's clear."

He nodded approvingly, and squeezed her hand gently.

"So, tell me, how should I punish you? What do you deserve?"

She was quite sure her blush was now permanently imprinted on her face. She stiffened herself, reminded herself that she was safe, where she stood. Safe, with him.

"With a spanking," she answered clearly, matching his gaze defiantly, seeing his proud smirk shine through. "On my bare behind," she added, deciding to put it in there before he could make her. The proud smirk grew even broader.

"Feeling a bit plucky are we, pup?"

Her small, crooked smile answered him and he ran a thumb over her slender hand approvingly.

"Normally," he continued, his voice dripping back into his firm reprimanding tone, "I'd give you a warm up over your clothes. But this is to do with your health, and I don't play games when it comes to that. Understand? I do _not_ take damage to your health, or _you_ lightly. So you're not getting a warm up, you're getting it straight on your bare little behind. Am I clear?"

She nodded slowly, amber locks spilling over her shoulders.

For the first time, he released her hand.

Sitting forwards on the chair, he raised a brow as he looked up at her. There was a very brief pause, as each contemplated the other, and then, Gibbs broke it.

"Lift up your skirt please."

She stalled, and stared at him with wide eyes.

He arched another brow.

"I want that skirt up now, Cloda, don't make me do it for you please."

With a thudding heart, she glanced down at her knee length skirt and placed a trembling pair of hands on either side of the fabric, working towards the hem. His gaze never left her, as she sucked in a short breath and tugged the light skirt upwards, past her knees, her thighs. It rested just above her panty line, and she couldn't help but look down on Gibbs with a questioning expression.

"All the way up please," he said simply.

Gulping, she pulled the skirt up further, fully revealing her shapely, toned legs and firm thighs. Gibbs nodded approvingly, before moving forwards. Without a word, he hooked a thumb and finger through either side of the waistband of her black, satin panties. Slowly, he pulled them down. He applied a little more force to enable the fabric to slip over her firm, well shaped backside.

Finally, they pooled in a puddle at her slender ankles.

"Step out," Gibbs ordered softly, "and keep that skirt where it is."

After a moment's indecision, she obeyed.

Reaching down, Gibbs scooped up the panties in his hand and held them in front of her. "In this house," he intoned, going with his gut feeling "panties are only for girls who can follow the rules. When I'm finished with your spanking, you will ask me for these back. You will only _get_ them back if I think you've learned your lesson, and are willing to treat your body with the respect it deserves from now on. Is that clear?"

She blushed furiously.

Standing there, with her skirt in her hands, fully on display as Gibbs held her panties in front of her was _not_ how she had planned the evening. It felt like a lifetime ago she was studying the menu back at the restaurant, and now here she was, preparing to have her behind spanked and preparing to negotiate the return of her own panties.

"I asked you if it was clear?"

She started, and the words that blurted themselves out of her mouth were of their own accord.

"Yes sir."

He raised a brow as her cheeks burned brighter. She would have clapped a hand to her mouth, but they were otherwise engaged, so she had to settle for a more intense flush. He had told her before how much he hated being called that, and how none of his own team did. He must think she was a complete fool. She opened her mouth to backtrack wildly, but her beat her to it.

"That's the first time I've ever fully appreciated being called that."

It was her brow's turn to shoot up.

It _did_ feel natural to her, and if her own ears were operating correctly, he apparently felt the same.

To Gibbs, it was bizarre. He despised being called sir. Had done in the Marines, before expressly forbidding his team to use the formality. But with _Cloda…_ it felt sweetly right. It felt natural, and in a way, he felt instinctively it would be a good differentiator between he as he was now, and he as he was generally.

He nodded internally.

"When you are in trouble pup, that is how you'll address me. Understand?"

A light draft wafted across her front, and her face lit up even more as she gave a nod.

"Yes sir."

He studied her for a moment more, before taking in a long breath.

The time for talking was officially over. Reaching out, he carefully took her by the hips and guided her to his side. She kept her skirt where it was, and he felt a odd sense of pride. Looking up at her as she stood beside him, he short her a reassuring look that spoke what a million words could not. She nodded back at him, clearly understanding.

Another one of her wonderful tributes.

With that, Gibbs reached out once more and took her wrists gently in his. The skirt tumbled to the floor. Exerting a carefully gentle pressure, he guided her downwards and quickly placed her across his knee.

He had to stifle a breath.

Her pelvic bones curled around his knees in a way that would indicate they were designed for each other. Reaching down, he gathered the hem of her skirt in his hands and slowly tugged it upwards. It draped the small of her back as he folded it tidily against it. She was draped perfectly across his knee. Her bottom high, her hands supporting her torso as she steadied herself, her hair tumbling around her beautiful face. He positioned his knee to angle her bottom slightly higher, as he wrapped his free arm securely around her trim waist. He glanced down at her well presented behind, and stifled another gasp.

He'd seen it before, of course.

But never like this.

Never like the two milky pale, firm globes that were shivering up at him. Anticipating what was about to befall them. He rested his hand against the well toned cheeks, and rubbed across them gently for a moment. His hand cupped them individually, their curves moulding to his hand with a seamless effort.

He took another lungful of air.

"Are you ready for your punishment, young lady?"

She only missed one heartbeat before she answered with her strong, determined voice.

"Yes sir."

….

TBC

…

A/N: I'm super, super nervous about this because it's so different from anything else I've written. (I'm changing the rating to M)

Do you guys want to read more of this or should I leave them where they're at? *Hovers in and out of comfort zone*

-Inks


	6. Of Peace and Dandelions

The feel of her warm figure over his knee was all consuming as he continued to carefully rub a large and broad hand over her well presented rear. He could feel her heart hammering against his knee as he cupped her cheeks in his hand, alternating between her firm globes. She lay perfectly still, and a small, unconscious smirk played across his face. She was quite the poker player, his Cloda. Aside from the erratic heartbeat, which even her medical prowess couldn't control, she betrayed nothing. No fear, no anxiety.

Nothing.

Just a no-nonsense acceptance.

"You can yell, cry and squirm all you want Cloda," he intoned slowly, quietly, continuing to run a relaxed hand over her cool backside. "But your hands stay where they are. So do your feet. You will not like the consequences of putting your hand back to cover your little behind here. Do I make myself clear?"

Her cheeks quivered under his hold, the first betrayal of her stoic front, but it was her words that took him by surprise.

"How do _you_ know I won't like them?"

He blinked, staring down at the slender yet muscular frame that adorned his knee silently.

Before a wide, proud grin spread across his face. Even in the position she was in, the newness she was experiencing…she had gusto, his Cloda. He was glad she couldn't see his face; he didn't think he'd be able to bite back his smile. His voice didn't betray him though; it came out guttural, yet soft. He rubbed another hand across her prone rear and bit his lip.

"You don't want to test me, Pup," he chided sternly, squeezing her right cheek, "trust me." He tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her closer into his torso. "I'll ask you once more. Are you going to do as you're told, and keep those hands and those feet where they are?"

Her hesitation was as brief as the flashiest of flashed pans.

"Yes sir."

He nodded to himself and shifted his knee slightly once more, bringing the tender and milky sit spots well into his line of view. "You are not to even attempt to remove yourself from my knee until I tell you. Understand?"

She drew in a ragged little breath, her chest hitching against his toned thighs.

"Yes sir."

His proud smirk was back. She was one of a kind. It felt like the hundredth time he'd taken her over his knee, and yet it carried the sizzling, frazzling spark of the very first time that it was. Pushing up the sleeve of his right arm, he steadied himself. He needed to be very, very careful. He wasn't intending on giving her a playful spanking, but he wasn't intending to push her past what she could take either. He felt himself slip into a rugged determination. He assessed her as she was, and made a mental note to be unerringly aware of her every reaction.

He had absolutely zero intention of going overboard.

"Now Pup," he murmured softly, yet firmly, "you are going to _ask_ me for your spanking."

She instantly tightened up against him. He kept a hand on her bared behind as she remained silent. He wanted her to ask so she would remember it every time she felt like ignoring a stomach rumble. Every time she felt like subsisting through a whole day on one half of a banana. This was the sort of message that would stick and he knew this part would be hard for her, so he waited.

And waited.

Before eventually dispelling the resounding silence.

"When I ask you a question, or when I ask you to do something young lady…I don't expect to wait all day for an answer." He kneaded his hand against her toned buns. "So, I would like you to do as you're told please and answer me. Right now."

Her heart was beating wildly against his thighs once more, and he pulled her closer still.

"I...uhh…well, would you…uhm…."

He could practically feel her blush, though he couldn't see it. Given that it was the very first time, he decided to employ some leniency. "Repeat after me," he directed sternly, clearing his throat deeply.

"Not eating is very dangerous and very self destructive. I need a good, hard spanking so I remember to take better care of myself. I need to treat myself with the respect I deserve. So please may I have my punishment, sir."

This time, her heart completely stalled against his warm thighs.

He tapped her creamy buttocks as a silence began to spiral.

"That was _not_ a suggestion, young lady."

She said or did nothing for a moment, save for squeaking a little into the carpet looming under her nose. He spied a flyaway lock of hair blowing slightly as she scooped in some air. "Not eating," she began, in what he instantly recognised was a slightly quieter tone, "is very dangerous and very self destructive…" she sucked in some more oxygen, her hair now dancing in her wake. "I need…a good, hard spanking so I remember to take better care of myself. I need to treat myself with the respect I deserve. So please…may I have my punishment, sir…"

She deflated across his knee, her hair tumbling around her face, obscuring her inferno like blush.

"Good girl," Gibbs praised softly, "I know that wasn't easy."

"You don't say," she mumbled quietly with a bite of her sarcasm, nearly into the carpet. He rolled his eyes at her incorrigible nature, and pulled her tighter still, letting it go.

"Time to pay the piper now Pup, and mind you remember what I said about those hands and feet."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

And he didn't press it.

Because the time for talking was officially and irrevocably done.

Glancing down at his ample target area, he re-secured his rolled up sleeve and took a deep breath. He raised his hand high, slowly arching out its entire span. Her awaiting behind trembled slightly in the cool air as the hand fell, slowly first and then faster and faster still. The first swat that ever passed between the two landed with a magnetic force.

The crack of skin on skin sizzled around the room.

Her firm cheeks held enough of a curve to jiggle slightly under his hand. Her Celtic skin reacted vibrantly to her very first swat. An imprint of Gibbs' broad hand instantly jumped up on the slope of her left cheek. As if in slow motion, he watched the pink imprint blossom, ballooning out from the centre of his own palm.

He felt his breath hitch, felt it shudder in his throat.

He'd spanked other women before. But…nothing…never like this. He never before felt the surge that tingled down his spine as his skin connected with hers. It was as natural as the air that surrounded them. His hand was just large enough to cover half her cheek in the one searing swat. Blinking, he pulled himself together. He didn't do one-swat spankings.

On the other end of the spectrum, breathing was also presenting quite the challenge.

On foot of asking for her own spanking, Cloda had squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Now, now they flew open. The slightest gasp escaped her. At first, all she heard was the cracking snap of skin on skin. A millisecond later, the corresponding sting lighted in the centre of her bared backside. It was a hard, deliberate and precise swat, covering an impossibly large area.

She sucked in some air.

Her every fibre was on fire. The feel of his hand crashing down on her bared butt was electrifying. Even as a punishment, there was no denying the connection that instantly sprang between them. It was as if this was her one hundredth spanking at his hands. As if she had been over his knee more times than she could possibly remember. And yet, the feelings in her stomach were only possible from the thrill and rawness of the very first time.

She braced herself, closing her eyes once more.

The second swat fell, and then the third. By the sixth and seventh, a natural tempo was settling in. The stinging series of swats landed hard and fast. Not wanting to allow any form of predictability to creep in, Gibbs routinely altered the pattern of his swats. Two on one cheek, one on the other, three on the next one. He kept his arm tightly around her slim waist, both drawing comfort with the closeness of each other as he settled into reddening her prone behind.

The stark creamy white of her thighs was a glaring contrast to the dusty- pink hue her ass was taking on. Gibbs was no amateur, and he knew how to thoroughly chastise such a well presented behind. Cloda was seemingly deciding to go down the stoic road. He peppered her soft skin with his broad hand, and drew only the odd, irrepressible yelp here and there. The room was deathly silent, save for the sound of his hand meeting her rear over and over again. The cracks seemed to penetrate every corner of their space, forcing Cloda to both feel and acutely hear her own penance.

She gritted her teeth.

Her ass was really, _really_ beginning to sting. An all over burning was beginning to seep over her besieged cheeks. He didn't pause, he didn't relent and she already knew that this would be the hardest spanking she'd ever had in her life. Both physically and emotionally. She did her level best to keep perfectly still, to keep her hands and feet on the ground and her butt up front and centre.

It was a pride thing.

But she was struggling. She felt so laden down with emotional stress, fatigue and pressure that the added heat in her seat was making it very hard to keep it together. She gritted her teeth as his impossibly hard hand dropped down to her sit spots, where the very first swat landed right between her thighs and what she was sure was her now gleaming butt.

To her horror, it brought tears springing into her eyes.

It freaking _hurt._

She'd totally underestimated how much his _hand_ could _hurt._ She'd totally underestimated how hard it would be to keep her emotions in check, to keep them buried and contained like she'd been conditioned to. As his hand fell down again, and he remained silent, she felt the tears burn in her eyes. He was showing no signs of letting up and it felt like her punishment had begun an eternity ago. And yet, she knew that he wasn't pushing it.

Her ass sizzled and it burned, but it was nothing she wouldn't recover from within a day or so.

She scrunched up her eyes in self disgust as she let out a surprised yelp when he tipped her carefully forwards, and began a flurry of rapid fire swats on her already well spanked sit spots. He squeezed her tighter into him, and she felt the tears burn with an unholy ferocity. It took all her will power to keep her squirming at a bare minimum, doing her best to keep her butt where it was supposed to be. But she couldn't help the involuntary twisting across his knee, her instinct forcing her to dodge the onslaught.

He merely held her firmer still.

"Remember what I said Cloda," he suddenly said clearly, raising his voice to be heard above his hand, "it is perfectly normal to cry. We both know you need to." He landed a particularly firm duo of swats. "It's ok to let go Pup, come on now…" he landed an unnerving trio on her under curve, "it's time to let go…"

She shook her head silently, her locks flying with the effort.

She couldn't…she just couldn't weep like a baby from a simple hand spanking.

She was supposed to be _strong._ She was supposed to be _unbreakable._

Gibbs shook his own head slowly, with an extreme sadness. The pressure she put on herself was starkly clear in that moment, and it truly saddened him to think that she considered it a weakness to let go. He knew he could help with that, and as far as he was concerned, the help started now. Pulling her back up more firmly on his knee, such was the faint degree of squirming that was beginning; he continued to dish out the firm, yet fair spanking.

Her behind was a deep, burning red now, and he knew that they were nearly there. Regardless of whether she emotionally let go or not, he couldn't and wouldn't justify spanking her past what the situation merited. He couldn't expect years of walls of protection to crumble from one session. Somehow, he just knew that she needed to hear him right now.

Needed to hear his voice.

Not loosening up on the swats, but speaking calmly over them, he cleared his throat.

"I don't like having to spank you like this Pup," he admitted slowly, "but I'll do it every day if I have to. You've been taking care of everything and everyone for so damned long, that you don't know how to take care of yourself. And you _need_ to learn to treat yourself with respect you deserve."

He paused for a moment, both in speech and in action.

"You don't have to do it all on your own now," he mumbled, reddening with the emotion he was uncharacteristically showing, "I'm here now. I'm here, and you gotta learn to lean on me. To lean on _people_ in general. It's not weakness Pup, its strength."

He rubbed a hand over her scorched behind and chewed his lip.

"I can't stomach the thought of something happening to you Clo," he said softly, "especially something that is as pointless, needless and downright dangerous as you forgetting to get some food into you on a daily basis."

He swallowed.

"I'm just _not_ going to let anyone hurt you, Clo…not even yourself. If tearing this behind up is what I have to do to get through to you, then that's what I have to do."

There was a silence as she didn't mutter a syllable, and didn't move an inch. Closing his eyes with a sudden weariness, Gibbs raised his hand for the last time to round off her spanking. But…before he could even extend his arm fully, a sound distracted him.

It was a choking, watery sound.

And then… there was sobbing.

Instead of lying perfectly still over his knee, Cloda's body began shaking with heaving sobs. Gibbs blinked in outright shock for a moment, looking down at the shuddering figure across his knee. As bizarre as it was, relief tinged with empathy coursed through him.

She was letting go.

There was a long, long way to go in her journey to self preservation.

But she'd made the first step and Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good girl," he praised with a shocking degree of pride in his tone, "that's it…let it all out...good...let it out now."

He raised his hand high and prepared to deliver the last of her spanking. In truth, he could have called it then and there but he knew she would equate that with him thinking her to weak to carry on, rendering the whole experience pointless. His hand landed in rapid succession once more, making a clean sweep of her well reddened, high temperature backside. He applied an additional thick coat of red to her well chastised sit spots, and her sobbing reached crescendo pitch. She squirmed across his knee, and he held her firmly in place as he dropped the last few swats.

In complete synchronisation with the very last hand to skin connection, she went limp over his knee.

She was completely and utterly, emotionally spent.

Her watery, choked and muffled "I'm sorry…I'm _sorry…."_ was choked up, and so unlike her usual spicy tones that Gibbs had to bite himself in order to not pluck her into his arms. She needed her space right now, to control her breathing and regain her composure. He sat perfectly still, and very gently traced his hand over her gleaming red rear end. He knew that she'd be feeling her spanking all through tomorrow, and found himself gently rubbing some of the sting out of her crimson sit spots.

He'd been hard on her, but not too hard.

Just hard enough.

How long they stayed in their frozen positions, he didn't know. But he didn't care. He would have sat there with her crying quietly across his knee all night if that's what she needed. He knew she wasn't ready to hear anything so he continued to silently rub a soothing hand over her firmly punished butt. The expelling of her demons was so much more than the cause of her punishment in the first place. He knew she was crying away physical fatigue and stress, and emotional pressure and burdens.

There was a moment eventually, where she caught her breath and coughed slightly and he just knew she was ready. Carefully reaching out, careful not to press her scarlet behind against anything, he angled his arms quickly. Plucking her gently off his knee, he quickly manoeuvred her in his arms so that when he rose, she was securely in his grasp, his arms bearing her weight without a hint of hesitation. She didn't protest as he walked slowly towards the sofa with her cradled in his arms, her face buried in his chest.

Sitting down carefully, he sat her in his lap, hearing her hiss of pain as his jeans scrubbed against her raw hide, and wrapped his arms around her securely, breathing deeply into her hair.

"It's ok," he whispered softly, "it's over now. It's over…you're ok….just breathe for me."

She nuzzled into his chest all the more, and he ran a hand through her thick and now very tousled hair. She stayed there for a moment, breathing in his woody scent before extracting her face, and peeping up at him. Her eyes were red rimmed and bleary, and her pale face was tear stained and puffy.

He stared anxiously and yet calmly down at her.

"How're you doing? How do you feel?"

She exhaled slowly.

"I….that was….." she rubbed her damp eyes, and looked at him with such openness he was momentarily stunned. "I don't think I've ever felt this. _.. unworried_ and… _free_ in years."

He stared for a moment, before kissing her forehead, closing his eyes as her scent washed over him.

"I'm so proud of you Clo," he murmured, "I know how hard it must have been for you to let go like that." He ran a gentle thumb over her watery eyes, "you took your punishment very well." He smiled softly down at her, pushing a lock of hair out of her face. "You're one hardcore little Pup, huh?"

Her shadow of her usual impish grin shone through.

"You know I like to overachieve."

He chuckled as he drew her closer to him. She laid in his arms for a moment, taking comfort in his steady heartbeat thudding through his shirt. She loved fact they didn't need to dissect and discuss what had just happened. They didn't need to talk it to death. The fact that she was so intensely comfortable sitting with a still bare, still scarlet backside in the arms of the man who painted it so very red, was astounding.

And yet she felt as peaceful as a floating dandelion.

"Don't ever, _ever_ make me punish you for not eating again Cloda," Gibbs suddenly instructed firmly, tipping her chin gently up to look at him. "You just got quite the tanning, I know, but if I have to take you over my knee for the same thing again, you'll look back on this spanking as a Christmas present. Do I make myself absolutely clear to you?"

She stilled in his arms, looking at him closely out of those impossibly green eyes.

Her backside burned beneath her, screaming the correct answer.

"Yes sir."

His warm smile was as welcome as a camp fire on the coldest winter night.

"Good girl," he praised gently, tracing a thumb over her cheekbone. "Oh, and Pup?"

She raised a questioning brow and his crooked smile washed all over her.

"It's back to Gibbs now. It's just me. Ok?"

She smiled with a certain degree of sleepiness settling in over her, and nodded, mumbling wearily "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde…it's so very nice to meet you."

He snorted.

"Of course… we're right back to the cheek," he sighed in feigned exasperation, eyes twinkling. "I guess three minutes and thirty seconds of model behaviour is the new record." Her look of outrage just made him chuckle all the more. Rubbing a hand through her hair, he felt her growing steadily more and more sleepy in his grasp. Knowing that she was literally both physically and emotionally exhausted, he snapped to it. Pressing another kiss onto her forehead, he squeezed her gently.

"I think you need to go upstairs and take a nap."

She shook her head with a massive yawn.

"I'm not tired."

Gibbs' brow disappeared into his hairline.

"You should know, that I consider getting enough sleep to be just as important as getting enough food…"

She looked at him in complete and utter askance for a moment, before throwing her eyes to the ceiling. "You're insufferable, you know that don't you?" His answering smirk was buried into her shoulders as he gently steered her up from the couch, and guided her towards the stairs. As they passed the chair that had just been vacated, Cloda's eyes instinctively went to the floor.

She turned back to face him with a slight flush colouring her cheeks, swiping a hand across the back of her neck in faint embarrassment.

He didn't think she'd ever looked so damned beautiful.

"Uhm…my…erm…."

His sudden grin was unmistakably devilish.

"Nap first Pup, then we can see about you earning your panties back."

…..

TBC

…..

A/N: I just wanted to say thanks so much for the great feedback on the last chapter, it's really calmed my nerves about this kind of story! I wasn't going to update this one so soon, but just found myself writing it in a bout of insomnia last night!

Thoughts?

-Inks


	7. The Morning After

**A/N: Warning, mature content at end of chapter!**

Leaning in the doorway of the bedroom that was splayed in early morning light, Gibbs smiled softly to himself. It was rare for Cloda to sleep soundly, and to be utterly peaceful. Usually she tossed and she turned, sleeping no more than three hours at a time. It was just gone seven in the morning, and she'd slept like a log throughout the entire night. He felt a ridiculous peacefulness at that fact. As he stood silently, she stirred sleepily, her natural morning routine kicking in.

Sitting up in his oversized marine t-shirt she'd donned last night, she spied him in the doorway and smiled through half open eyes.

"Morning," she mumbled, pushing hair bemusedly out of her face, causing what Gibbs would term a "stupid" smile to splash across his face. "I can't believe I slept so long, feels like I've been out of it for weeks." Shaking his head slightly, Gibbs meandered into the room and extended the glass of orange juice in his hands towards her.

"You had a decent nights' sleep," he contradicted lightly, settling on his vacated side of the bed beside her, "You should do it more often." Accepting the ice cold juice, she merely rolled her eyes at him and mumbled "and you?" with a sleepy grin, "Do _you_ get a decent nights' sleep, every single night?"

Gibbs smirked. Fishing in the pocket of his slacks, being already dressed for work, he held up the dangling item high into the air, representing last nights' contraband. The flush that instantly splashed across her face was nothing short of adorable. "You're not exactly going the right way about getting these back now, are you Pup?" he questioned softly, the panties in his hand swaying slightly in his grasp.

She made a feisty grab for them, as he expertly and easily denied her with a chuckle.

"You are nowhere near as hilarious as you think you are," she growled, green eyes sparking with tempter and amusement. Gibbs laughed and drew her playfully snarling face into his chest, pressing his mouth into her tangled mop of fiery hair. "And you are nowhere near as scary as you think you are," he murmured, breathing in her scent. They stayed like that for a while, each content in each other's hold. Cloda couldn't quite nor dare believe how comfortable she felt. It was like she had known this man every day of her life, like they had been together since for years.

And yet, it had only been last night when stark revelations were revealed.

She marvelled at her sleep. She never slept like that. Ever, and she hadn't intended to last night either. But she had just felt so…cleansed, that when she dropped her head onto her pillow her consciousness had descended blissfully into one of the best nights' sleep she'd had in years. As she snuggled deeper into his broad chest, she also marvelled at how completely unembarrassed she felt. She felt no morning after regret in coming clean with Gibbs; she felt only peace and relief. And judging by the absent minded way he was running a hand through her hair, he felt the same way.

Maybe she wasn't doomed to a life of work and subsequent death.

Maybe she _did_ get to be happy.

Just maybe…

"I gotta go," Gibbs suddenly announced quietly, "Got a new case in. Will I pick you up at the hospital tonight?" She tossed in his arms, to arrange herself looking up at him. "You do know I can drive right?" she teased, "I can even show you my licence if you want?" Rolling his eyes, Gibbs traced a thumb over her strong jaw line and sighed dramatically as she drained the rest of the orange juice.

"By all means, drive yourself over," he laughed, "I'm simply trying to be a gentleman."

It was her turn to laugh. Loudly.

"Really? What's brought that life change on then?"

Looking down at her bright eyes gleaming with mischief, Gibbs tilted his head, before he acted on instinct. Reaching down, he easily but gently flipped her over onto her stomach. Removing the blankets, over the sounds over her surprised squeals, he placed one hand firmly in the small of her back. Using the other, he slowly pulled the oversized t-shirt up, revealing her once again creamy backside. Sensing what was happening, she spluttered over indignation and laughter. He laughed softly himself as she hopelessly attempted to squirm away, without really wanting to _get_ away.

In the slightest.

"Now, Pup," he murmured softly, rubbing his hand over the plump cheeks that trembled with anticipation at his lighter than light touch, "I thought I paid enough to this little bottom of yours last night. Was I wrong? Do you need another little…reminder? "

She squirmed under his grasp, and managed to look around at him with widened and innocent eyes.

He bit his lip.

She was stunning.

It was disarming how positively angelic she could look, before splitting into a mischievous grin. "Are you insinuating you spanked me last night?" she all but purred, propping her head up with her elbow. "Because…it sure doesn't _feel_ like you spanked me last night." She chewed her lip and sighed dramatically, as he gently kneaded her cheeks. "I guess, being a doctor, I should expect a certain…uhh, lethargy, from a man of your age. I could always give you a physical, if you wanted? Make sure you didn't do yourself any injury?"

Gibbs stared, as a slow grin spread across his face.

She was definitely a spitfire. And damn it if he didn't love that about her.

"You know," he eventually whispered, continuing to trace a hand up and down her bared behind, "I _was_ just going to give you a few little love taps to send you off about your day. But that mouth of yours Pup, it just never knows when to quit. I think…" his hands rested squarely in the centre of her milky cheeks, "I think you need a firmer reminder now, don't you?"

She shrugged coyly, her heart hammering with anticipative yearning, but remaining outwardly zen.

"Do you think you could do it without waking me up? I might catch a few more minutes of sleep."

Gibbs bit his lip, hard, so he wouldn't burst into laughter. "All right Pup," he intoned firmly, "That's it. Clearly you _do_ need a proper reminder." He fought hard to keep his stern face in place, as he deftly leapt up from the bed and crossed over to the other side of it. Sitting down on the edge beside her, he crooked a finger at her, before pointing to the spot on the floor directly in front of him.

"Up you get, and get that little behind over here."

She stared at him hungrily for a moment, before tossing her hair behind her. "And if I don't?" she challenged with a little grin. He contemplated her for a moment, drinking her in with his eyes. Even with mussed up hair, sleep in her eyes and a seconded shirt, she took his damned breath away.

"Then," he countered slowly, "I'll have to take you of that bed myself and…Pup…you wouldn't like the consequences." She digested this slowly, giving Gibbs time to marvel at how natural this all felt. As if he had known Cloda all his life, and this had been their dynamic for years. He loved that she challenged him, that she defied him. Love that she was a wildfire. Loved that this was his morning, compared to the usual lonesome am plight.

She sighed dramatically in answer, and slowly stirred herself.

Taking her sweet time, deliberately, she ambled out of the bed. Her hair fell into her eyes, and she slowly brushed it back. Mooching slowly in his awaiting direction, she held out her hand to his outstretched one and allowed herself to be drawn close.

"Why am I about to redden that ass of yours again, Cloda?"

She looked into his face, and could tell that his serious front was a façade and that he was amused inside. She loved that about him. She loved that he didn't take things to heart, that he could have a bit of fun but still act like he felt every bit as stern as he looked. She cocked her head and contemplated his question.

"Because you love my ass?"

He grinned.

He couldn't help it.

"That is so very true," he chuckled, "But, why else? Come on now."

She shuffled slightly, looking utterly adorable in a shirt that swam on her before deciding it was maybe too early to antagonise him any further. "Because of my mouth?" she offered sweetly, her eyes sparkling with mirth. He could have insisted on a more detailed explanation, but all in all, decided she had the essential elements down.

"Correct."

He pulled her closer to him. "And because of that mouth, you're going to go to work with a red behind and hopefully, you'll be able to make it through dinner tonight without adding to it, hmm?" He paused as she deliberated, before adding a dramatically exasperated "Probably not, right?"

She grinned her toothy grin.

"Probably not."

He rolled his eyes, and hid his own smile. Hating that he had to go to work soon, for the first time in a long time, he sighed. This would, unfortunately, have to be quick. He increased the pressure on her hands, and pulled her easily down over his knee, her face buried in a mass of blankets. Once again, he inched the shirt away from her upturned backside. Looking down at it, he bit his lip once more. It was beautiful, and showed no signs of being thoroughly chastised just last night.

But yet, he knew the quick spanking to come would resonate more than it would normally.

Her butt would still be sensitised.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he smirked at her contented sigh. Chances were, this was the way this morning was always going to end up. Running a hand loosely across her pert globes, he allowed the tension to mount. Before slowly raising his hand and bringing it smartly down on her left cheek. Her answering squeak was as expected as it was adorable. "Not so funny when your mouth catches up with you, now is it?" he asked maddeningly, and rhetorically, earning himself a growl in response.

Bringing his hand down for a second time, he quickly settled into the brisk and brief spanking. Her ass pinked up much quicker than usual, and she squirmed and yelped much quicker than she had done just last night. With her face buried in the blankets, Cloda although outwardly indignant, was savouring every last minute and every last swat. She had never in her wildest dreams thought this could work, and yet, here she was. A warming sting was spreading across her behind, pleasing her with every increasing jolt.

This… _this_ was the way to start the day.

Even when he dropped his hand to her sit spots, and the sting multiplied, her enjoyment still grew. She flexed into his big, broad hand, earning herself an affectionate chuckle as he obligingly pulled her closer to him, bringing his hand down hard all the while. It wasn't long until her whole backside was aflame. Gibbs, she knew already, was no amateur. His wide hand covered nearly an entire cheek at a time, and he made no bones about accurately addressing both of them in turn.

She wouldn't cry this time, it wasn't that kind of a spanking.

This…this was simply pleasure.

The one he'd been talking about.

The one she'd been dreaming about.

When his hand ceased to fall, he murmured throatily about how well she had taken her spanking. Before inching a thumb slowly and gently in between her awaiting, and wildly accommodating legs, causing her to shudder with joy. This, she knew, was what she had always wanted. But had never had. As he stroked inside her with an expertise that sent electric shivers down her spine with a seismic force, and tore a loud and low moan of ecstasy from her throat, she knew…

She would do anything to keep it.

And that was the last thing she knew before she succumbed, with a gargle of outrageous pleasure.

…

TBC

A/N: Thoughts?

…..


	8. Caller Contention

Fondly grinning as Cloda frowned discreetly at her plate; Gibbs slowly stood. Leaning over, he scooped it up from under her. Stacking it on his equally rejected plate; he couldn't help but burst out laughing at her pained expression, born from natural politeness. "You have quite the poker face, Dr O'Brien, but no-one could pretend to like this crap. Not even you." The look of relief that crossed her face as he spoke was comical. "It's not that bad," she lied, her eyes sparkling, "For a…well a person like you, I mean."

Dumping the plates into the sink and returning to squeeze her shoulders gently, Gibbs smirked.

"A person like me? What kind of a person would that be then?"

Dropping a kiss onto her fiery head as she pondered, he drank in her scent. "Well," she hedged, "A domestically challenged person. A person who thinks cereal is both a breakfast and dinner staple." She tipped her head upwards, the light catching her defined jaw line and narrowed her deep green eyes. "A person who would rather work all night on some infernal boat than come to bed with an outrageously willing woman?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes as he traced a thumb over her high cheekbones.

"We really going to go through this again?"

He sighed dramatically as her eyes narrowed to serpentine levels in answer. Holding up his hands in defeat, he chuckled at her fierce expression. "I thought you were asleep, I didn't want to disturb you and the hull…she just needed my attention. Boats are funny creatures, and when they want my touch…they want my touch." Still grinning, he replaced his hands on her shoulders and rubbed her tired muscles carefully. "Just like you."

Cloda sighed as he worked through her tired tissues.

"Don't flatter yourself," she murmured in inescapable contentment. "Old men with massaging hands are ten a dozen at any given hospital." She tilted her head back further to grin up at an amused looking Gibbs. "I could get the same treatment on the geriatrics ward _with_ the added benefit of edible food." Her eyes gleamed as she pondered. "Maybe I'll book myself a little trip in there, give you and your _hull_ some privacy. Just make sure you use protection. I've seen splinters down there and you don't-"

Gibbs leant down and gently silenced her with a kiss.

"Behave," he whispered softly as he withdrew for air, "And I'll settle for getting take-out from that god awful sushi place you live and breathe for." Smiling her assent and already visualising the beautiful meal, Cloda shook her head with slowly at Gibbs' tentative "Or we could…you know, order burgers from somewhere?"

"I don't think so," she teased, "Dr Mallard has told me he shares my concerns for your cholesterol."

Gibbs instantly glowered.

"That treacherous little-"

She reached up and placed a gentle finger over his lips. "Why don't you just trust the doctors and eat something that isn't going to corrode your stomach lining?" Standing, and snuggling into his chest as he sighed in defeat, she placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Still no beat," she muttered quietly, "I know I said you were heartless, but I don't think I've ever met someone who was anatomically heartless." She twinkled up at him. "You're a rare breed, you know that right?" Rolling his eyes at the familiar needling, Gibbs bit his lip as a waft of her delicate scent washed over him.

"Any man, who puts up with _you_ Pup, is automatically a rare breed."

She snorted into his chest as he smirked at her ire. "You're blessed," she countered, nuzzling further into him, his arms wrapping around her, "You're a very fortunate man, Agent Gibbs." She lifted her head to grin slowly up at him, her hands moving deliberately up his firm chest. Her long and delicate fingers lingered on the buttons of his trademark polo shirt, toying with them slowly. "Unless of course, you'd rather undo these buttons yourself?" She cocked her head coyly, sending his pulse into overdrive, as only she could. "Would you prefer that…hmm? To have to undo your buttons, all on your own?"

He shook his head as she carefully popped one button open, their gazes intertwined.

"No," he admitted with a lopsided grin, reaching up to cup her hand in his larger counterpart, "You've got a way with buttons that I can only dream of." She smiled as she felt the warmth spread through her palm in his careful clasp. "Is that all you want me for?" she challenged lightly, popping open another button. "Perhaps you are not such a rare breed then. Perhaps you are just like all the others, hmm?" She laughed softly as he groaned without deference at the last button pop. "Because, if that _is_ the case…you know I have a, shall we say, appreciation for the younger man…" He glared without heat upon her as he instantly saw where she was going. God, she knew how to wind him up. It was simply like breathing to her.

"Like your Tony, for example," she tinkled, "He's very handsome and…experienced beyond his years, one would imagine. Don't you think so?" Growling in his throat, Gibbs shook his head and placed a gentle finger under her chin, tipping her head upwards to him. "Were you born this brazen Pup or did you have to work at it? Because, right now, I'm starting to think you're working your way right up to one very sore behind."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she slowly bit down upon her plump lower lip.

Gibbs groaned with want, deeply and internally.

She would be the death of him, this woman.

"What about dinner?" she challenged, "Because you do realise your meat loaf is in breach of my basic and fundamental human rights. I could probably have you arrested. I'd need a good lawyer, of course." She smirked up at him. "Any chance one of your ex wives was a lawyer? I feel like they'd have a really good grasp on my case."

Gibbs stared down at her for a moment, heaving with mirth internally, but looking outrageously stern.

"My my, you cheeky little Pup," he crooned as he reached up to push a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. "Here was me thinking I was getting somewhere with that runaway mouth of yours." He shook his head in feigned disappointment, drawing a heartfelt giggle from his thoroughly unrepentant captive. "I guess we're going to have to put dinner on hold for a bit. Seems like a certain someone needs to order from a different menu first."

Cloda smiled widely as a familiar heat began to pool into her lower extremities.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," she drawled, "There's no shame in not being able to read small print menus. Not at your age." She snapped her fingers, inches from Gibbs' nose, and smirked devilishly. "I could always pick up the kiddie version of menus. I think they have pictures instead of words. Would really help with your eye strain, right?"

There was silence for a moment, as she stared boldly up at him, her eyes flashing with mischief. But then, all of sudden, her eyes were no longer looking up at him. Squealing in surprise as she was lifted off her feet with an outrageous ease, Cloda squirmed vigorously as she was carefully and quickly placed over Gibbs' right shoulder. Spluttering with laughter as she became quickly acquainted with her bearings, she lay down a flurry of protesting blows on his unaffected back. "Let me down you animal," she demanded, much diminished by her blustering giggles. The swat that came up to meet her prone backside had her squawking, as he spoke lowly over the din. "Oh I don't think so Pup. I think you and I need to have _another_ little chat about your misbehaviour. And then you can sit down to your sushi. That'll be raw, but believe me, your beautiful little ass won't be."

A shudder of vibrating delight coursed through Cloda as he made for the stairs, a strong arm securing her in place with no difficulty.

Just as she was about to utter some dreadfully witty retort, an impatient rap came to the door, startling them both. Recovering first, Cloda slapped Gibbs lightly on the back. "Put me down and answer the door," she commanded, with as much dignity as she could muster given her position. She didn't need to see Gibbs to know he was smirking as he shook her head. "Oh no, I don't think so," he denied lightly, "You wanted to be a naughty little Pup, so you shouldn't be embarrassed for anyone to know about it."

The next blow on his back as he turned to the door was nowhere near as light.

In truth, he wasn't expecting anyone at the door. He was long awaiting a delivery of specialised wooden nails for his boat, and the niche hardware owner whom he sourced them, wasn't that big on human contact. On his deliveries, he tended to knock the door and leave with haste, and he was more than likely due around now. His distaste for human interaction suited the taciturn Gibbs down to the ground. Chuckling as another blow landed on his back, he reached up and spanked the tightly presented bottom soundly. "Pipe down," he chided with fondness, "It's just a drop off delivery."

"It's just a drop off delivery," Cloda snarked, mimicking his tone, and earning herself another firm swat in the process. Her soft _ow_ was masked by the creaking sounds of the door opening. Gibbs increased his hold on his sulking prisoner as he immediately realised the magnitude of his error. It wasn't a delivery. It wasn't nails, it was a human. A human he didn't recognise. Shrugging slightly, he arched a brow at the stunned looking expression on the man's face.

"Can I help you?"

Cloda instantly stilled on his shoulder and spluttered in indignation as she realised they weren't alone.

The man stared for a moment longer, clutching a sheaf of official looking papers. His face suddenly darkened with unmistakable anger, and his eyes burned with what Gibbs instantly deduced was violent intent.

"Oh you can help me alright," the caller spat, "You can help me by taking your filthy little hands off of my fucking wife."

….

A/N: Dilemma, dilemma… (I confess, I forgot about this fic! My bad, my bad. New update won't take as long!)

…


	9. Farewell, James

Old Mrs Clegg on the opposite side of the street nearly broke her neck. She was craning it viciously to see what was going on over at the Gibbs household. Spying her long term gossip buddy strolling down the street with her overweight poodle, she gesticulated wildly. It wasn't long before both women were agape at the scene that was spilling out into the evening air. "Lord have mercy," Mrs Clegg gasped, her eyes wide as she drank in the view. "I do think they're going to come to blows. He must be her other fancy piece." She elbowed the equally ancient Mrs Heath vigorously into the ribs. "Didn't I _tell_ you he was after taking up with that woman? The doctor?" She sniffed delicately. "She looks about half his age too, no respect these days...none."

Mrs Heath nodded in scandalised amazement as the voices wafted out over the lawns.

She couldn't wait to tell her book club.

Gibbs felt his blood run cold as he stared at the man on his doorstep. Out of instinct he had gently placed Cloda back on her feet at the intrusion and was now standing directly in front of her. Forcing himself to breathe deeply he cleared his throat. "I'll ask you one more time," he said coldly, "Get off my property or I will remove you myself and trust me, you won't appreciate my methods." James smiled a cold and cruel smile as she shook his head once more.

"My my Cloda," he crooned, "You've gone meek? I've never known you to stand behind the legs of a man and have your battles fought for you." He let out a slithering chuckle that had Gibbs' fists balling tightly of their own accord. His eyes raked over the man. He was a rather nondescript. Average weight, height. American accent, presumably low level white collar job. Cold eyes that were currently alight with a callous glow. Even if the intruder hadn't laid claims on Cloda as being his wife, Gibbs would have had no issue in guessing who he was.

The ex husband.

The one she would never, ever talk about.

The one he had surmised had done substantial mental harm to his Pup.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he continued. "I'm James, and behind you is my wife, Cloda. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to allow us a moment?" He barked out another tuneless laugh. "Call it spousal privilege if you like." The expression that crossed Gibbs' face at the man's words would have sent a more intelligent being running for the first available hill. It would appear that James was not in that category as he smiled rather foolishly up at the former Marine. Before he could open his mouth to reply, Cloda overcame her shock and a sudden anger gripped her. Stepping out in front of him, to his total despair she locked eyes with James. Every instinct in Gibbs' body was screaming to step back in front of Cloda, but he knew better. She was strong as hell and she sure as shit wouldn't appreciate being treated like a delicate flower.

"How dare you come here," Dr O'Brien questioned in a voice that Gibbs had never heard before. Her subordinates at the hospital however were far more acquainted with the tone, just as Gibbs' team were very familiar with the tone Cloda never heard. "How dare you intrude into my life like this, and what is this utter nonsense you're speaking?" She drew herself up to her full height which sent electric shocks of anger into the night. "We are not married, we have long since been divorced. You know that, I know that, so what is this mania you're spouting?"

James recovered from a brief bout of shock at her words and smiled sadistically.

"I did know that, dear wife," he drawled, "Well, at least I thought I did. But as it happily turns out, that lawyer you insisted we use? The wife of your _friend_ at the hospital? Turns out she was as incompetent as you are…perverse." His laugh, so obviously filled with cruel mirth sent shivers down Cloda's spine as it brought her right back to one of the most difficult periods of her life.

Gibbs scheduled himself a trip to the dentist as his teeth snapped together in a snarl.

Cloda silenced him with a raised hand.

"What are you talking about?" She demanded quietly, a quiet storm of dread beginning to rain down upon her. "What is this foolishness?" He held up the sheaf of papers at her words and smiled widely. "Well, it would seem fate didn't want us to part ways. Legally, that is. I signed the divorce papers and you signed the divorce papers, but your dear lawyer friend never filed them with the court. When you moved away…" his gaze lingered over Gibbs' neighbourhood, "To the…other side of town, you put yourself out of the range of the gossipers. So did I, but I moved back a couple of weeks ago and imagine my surprise when driving past her long established office to find an ice cream joint?" He shrugged, smiling widely, "After a minute, I didn't think much of it, soon forgot about it."

He leaned into the doorway causing Gibbs' hackles to rise even further.

"Anyhow, after my travels. Did you know I went travelling? Anyhow, after I got back I caught up with Dave for a few drinks. Do you remember Dave? And we got talking about how the old town had changed and I mentioned the new ice cream joint." His eyes positively glowed in the evening light with sick glee. "And he told me that your friend was disbarred in disgrace. Wildly incompetent you see. Lots of folk had discovered that their house sales weren't completed properly, that their applications were never filed. And it got me thinking, you know? About my sweet Cloda with the not so sweet ahh…kink?"

Gibbs was only physically restrained because she stood in front of him.

"So I did some digging at the court." He held up the papers once more with an almost maniacal grin. "And as the Lord would have it, we are still Mr and Mrs. Isn't it wonderful?" He laughed lowly. "Technically of course I could re-file for divorce," His gaze lingered over Gibbs, "Clearly you've not been in keeping with the marital bonds of fidelity…" He shrugged. "But this fellow here looks about one foot away from the grave, so I guess he's not too much of a threat." He glanced back at Gibbs and then back at Cloda. "Jeesh…you _do_ like them older now, huh?"

The whole world as she knew it had just fallen into a pile of smouldering ashes at Cloda's feet.

She could not answer.

Gibbs, however, could.

Very carefully and gently he put himself in front of Cloda once more. His gaze was glacial as it worked over the stupidly grinning intruder. It was with the greatest difficulty that he resisted implanting his fist with such force between the man's two eyes that it would require surgical removal. "What is that you want?" he settled for spitting, "Because you sure as hell aren't about to ride off into the sunset, if that's what you're thinking."

James chuckled.

"No," he conceded lightly, "I don't think there are going to be any sunset exits with me and your new…partner. This is more of an economical call if I'm quite frank. I had a good job before the crash hit and myself and Cloda dearest here lived a financial life of privilege. But…the years haven't been kind to me, and the bank has been even more unkind. I'm sure you understand," he glanced at Gibbs' house, "You're not exactly doing too well either are you?" He feigned a sympathetic nod. "It's tough out there, especially for a man of your err…vintage."

The image of blood seeping from James' nose was beginning to look more and more likely.

Cloda suddenly merged from the shadows to side stand by side with Gibbs.

He took the moment even in the current situation to marvel at her steadfastness.

"And what is it you think you're going to get from me?" She spat, "Economically speaking."

His grin grew even wider and Gibbs' fists twitched even harder.

"Well I could of course re-file for divorce and attempt to secure alimony from you." He threw a hand towards the house. "Which with your clear infidelity here it would be quite the case. Or we can resolve this quickly and you can write me a cheque that adequately reflects the stresses I was placed under in our relationship, and I can be on my way. What do you think?"

Cloda felt her mouth drop.

"I think," she answered after a moment, "That I must have suffered from sort of brain lesion throughout the course of our entire marriage. I never and I mean this, I never saw you for just how very painfully stupid you are. You really think that a court would award you anything? Are you really and truly that ignorant of the basic laws that govern the state your pathetic existence resides in?" She produced a scathing laugh of her own that simultaneously gave Gibbs both pride and the shivers. "You'll get nothing from me and you'll get nothing from any court. I will go to a lawyer, the best that money can buy, tomorrow. This…mess will be straightened out as soon as physically possible."

James didn't miss a beat.

"I thought you'd say something like that," he chuckled, "And if I'm honest, dear wife, I know I wouldn't succeed in the courts. But as unfortunate as that is and as horrifying as it is to be still legally attached to you, I've decided to make the best of the situation. See, if you don't give me what we both consider to be a fair severance package of sorts, I'm going to have to enact some retribution." He smiled with sickening glee. "You understand, don't you?"

He shrugged.

"Even if you don't, I'm sure you still understand the importance of professional reputation? I do. See, since you told all those lies about me and got all those foolish restraining orders, my professional reputation has taken a hit. I thought leaving for a while, seeing the world and all that, would help. That the tongues would have stopped wagging by the time I returned. I was wrong. I can't get a job, and it's because of you. You and your lies and you and your perversion." His face wore an ugly mask and Gibbs instantly caught an insight as to what Cloda had endured all those years. His anger was at near molten levels as the sleazebag continued to speak.

"So I think it's only fair that in order for you to retain _your_ professional reputation, that I be compensated. Otherwise…" His eyes shone dangerously. "Otherwise Cloda, I am going to ensure that you are ruined. I am going to stand on the rooftops and shout your filthy little habits at the top of my lungs. I'll print fliers and distribute them at the doors of your hospital. I'll tell your trainee's not to worry about your wrath and your sharp tongue." His eyes shot to Gibbs once more. "I'll them all they have to do is come and tell _Daddy_ here that you were mean to them. I'll them he'll _spank_ that naughty attitude right out of you." He let out a spine tingling chuckle. "I'll tell everyone about every single thing you ever asked me to do you, I'll show them the emails, I'll show them the texts." His eyes gleamed. "I'll tell and show everyone _everything_ if I don't walk out of here with a nice fat cheque for the ruination that has dogged my life since the say I laid eyes on you."

Cloda's hand instantly shot up and spread delicately over Gibbs' chest as he moved forwards.

She took perhaps the deepest breath she had ever breathed in her entire life.

"Do it," she answered quietly, "Go ahead and do it."

She reached down and took Gibbs' hand in her own and squeezed it tight.

"I have nothing to be ashamed of."

Three different pools of emotion seized the doorstep. As he felt her warm hand slip into his and heard her assured words, Gibbs thought he might just pass clean out from pride. Squeezing her hand he communicated that and by the small smile that played around her lips, she had no difficulty understanding his message. She herself was undergoing a near outer body experience. She heard herself say the words in her voice, and yet it was if they were spoken by another. But as her brain caught up with her mouth she began to embrace her words. She had nothing to be ashamed of, it was true. She glared defiantly at the piece of filth on the porch and wondered for the millionth time what she had ever seen in him.

Gibbs' presence beside her told her exactly what she deserved.

And it sure as hell wasn't the likes of James.

James himself couldn't believe his ears. He stared at Cloda with bulging eyes. He had counted on her continued embarrassment and shame that surrounded her preferences. He had never in a million years thought she would be comfortable with it. He had never even countenanced the idea that she _wouldn't_ do whatever the hell it took to keep her bedroom antics from her colleagues. He had intended to bleed her dry before he moved on. The idea that he wasn't going to get a red cent was absolutely mind blowing. As with all weak men, his disbelief as to the undermining of his own brilliance soon turned to anger.

"You stupid bitch," he snarled, "This will ruin you. No one would ever want to be treated by a freak like you. You realise that?"

Cloda's laugh tinkled into the air.

"Maybe," she conceded lightly, "And if that's the case, I'll just retire on my obscene amount of money and engage in all my _perversion_ all day, every day." She glanced up at Gibbs. "Does that sound good to you dear?" Gibbs, who was still working hard not to land James into the next life, nodded with a smile. "Sounds great," he agreed, "Maybe we should just do that anyway. I can retire in two weeks, what with being so _old_ and all."

James' heart filled with hatred.

"Oh, just so you know," Gibbs suddenly muttered, turning back to the cretin on his porch. "I'm a federal agent, and a pretty good one if I do say so myself. I can make your life a living hell." He cast a scornful gaze over the smaller man. "Well…more of a living hell. I know scum when I see it and I know a record holder when I see one. You may think that you're untouchable, but I guarantee you that if my team and I start looking into you, we're going to find something. I'll dig right down to the earth's core to find something. And when I find that something…I'll fucking end you with it. I'll shove that thing so far down your pathetic throat that you'll die choking on it. Do you understand me?"

James' entire stomach contents threatened to take leave of his gut.

"You should leave," Gibbs continued lightly, "And you should never return. You should go now, and go with your mouth shut. This is probably your very last opportunity to do so. I can be one petty son of a bitch, or so I'm told. You really, really don't want me on your case because I would happily follow you to the ends of the earth to destroy you."

A chill overtook them.

Rubbing his hands over Cloda's slim shoulders, Gibbs pressed a kiss into her hair.

"Why don't you go in and get warm?" He suggested, "James was just going."

About to disagree, Cloda realised that it would be the best thing. For James to see her literally turn her back on him would be the best thing. She trusted Gibbs, she trusted his judgement. Without glancing at the man on the porch, she reached up and kissed Gibbs deeply before slipping back into the warm house, shutting the door behind her. The two men left outside met each other's eyes slowly, hatred burning in one set and protective rage burning in the other.

"Leave and speak to no-one. Never return."

At his heart, James was a coward. A slithering, spineless coward.

He knew when he was beat.

"You're welcome to her," he spat in enraged misery, "You're welcome to her sickness."

He shot one last scathing look at Gibbs, before turning to leave.

"James?"

Gibbs' voice was soft and almost gentle as the man instinctively tuned back.

The blow that landed squarely on his jaw sent him spiralling backwards, tripping over his own feet. Leaning down, Gibbs easily dragged the man to his feet with one hand and pulled him to the boundary line of his property. Throwing him down as hard as possible beside his garbage cans, he leaned down beside him and whispered into the stupefied man's ear.

"I'm not above killing the man who threatens my family. Trust me on that."

Even in his beaten state and with the thundering pain in his head, James knew he wasn't bluffing.

Before Gibbs turned on his heel to go back to his house and his woman, he waved cheerily over at old Mrs Clegg and Mrs Heath. Gesturing down at the limp frame on the ground, he landed a searing kick into James' gut. He shrugged at the gaping pair as James' howl filled the air, their hands pressed over their hearts in amazement.

"How many times do you have to tell these people you don't want cable?"

He was still grinning when he swept Cloda into his arms two minutes later.

…..

TBC

….


	10. The House Special

"Step out," he instructed quietly, his eyes set and focused. The fabric of the jeans pooling around her ankles felt oddly acerbic as she bit her lip and lifted one slender ankle at a time. He never took his eyes off her as she scampered out of the denim. He stood directly in front of her, his presence both comforting and intoxicating. He said nothing for a moment as he stared at her bared legs, encased only in white ankle socks. "Pick them up, fold them and place them on the couch. You won't be needing them again tonight." Her cheeks flamed at the tone and she hesitated instinctively. He cleared his throat. "It would not fall in your favour for me to ask again, Cloda."

Her stomach caterwauled over itself as she swallowed. Moving with her natural born grace, she bent down and plucked the jeans off the floor with maddeningly shaking heads. His eyes continued to bore through her as she jerkily folded the jeans as instructed. The short trip to the couch felt like an eternity, her senses feeling his gaze upon her all the while. The slow walk back to the corner felt more like a marathon and he made no effort to neutralise the misconception. His jaw was taut, he was angry. He was very angry, but he was also very much in control. He swallowed her in his gaze for a moment longer, allowing her to sweat. A simple black t-shirt, satin blue panties and skimpy white socks was now all that clothed her.

"Panties down, now. Bare that bottom."

The flush that sprawled across her face matched her fiery hair as she gulped subtly. She stole a glance at him and instantly saw that there would be no relenting. The two stood frozen in their very own moment, one heart thumping a lot faster than the other. She met his gaze in a way that only a woman of her characteristic valour could and steeled herself. Slender hands were raised to the waistband of her sheer panties and she curled her fingers around it. Knowing that this moment was far from sensual, she didn't try to use the pull of allure. She tugged her panties down over her shapely behind and allowed them to fall around her ankles. He said nothing for the longest moment as the soft fabric rested upon her feet, appraising her soul with his eyes.

"Step out and hand them to me."

Her eyes flooded with anxious anticipation as she once again raised a slender ankle. Swallowing deeply, she bent down and scooped the satin up from the floor. She met his eyes as she held them out and they still burned with disappointment and anger. She couldn't hide the flinch that crossed her face at that realisation and so she dropped her head. Suddenly, the lack of modesty which wouldn't have bothered her in the slightest yesterday, became a prominent issue. She instinctively placed her hands over her equally fiery pubic hair and blushed furiously. Seeing this, he shook his head and tipped her head up gently to meet his eyes.

"No no no, I don't think so," he murmured throatily, "Modesty is for good girls who can follow simple rules that are in place for their own good. Right now, you are not a good girl. You are not a good girl who can follow simple rules put in place for your own good. So, you can take your hands away from there and put them on top of your head. You will leave them there until we are finished our discussion or when I tell you otherwise." His breath was cool and pleasant on her neck as he spoke, but his words sent shivers down her spine. Noting her hesitation, he raised an expressive brow. "I won't ask twice, Cloda, so take your hands away from there and put them on your head. Interlock your fingers, this minute."

The blush that crossed her face was faster and much more furious than its predecessor.

Her fingers linked together on the top of her soft hair and she was rendered utterly defenceless to his probing stare. "Now," he continued quietly, in a voice that dripped and drooled authority, "I think it's time we had a little talk. Don't you?" Clearly this was not a rhetorical question and she sucked some air down her windpipe, helped by her rigid stance. Her quiet "yes," was not like her usual, bouncy and light hearted tone. The simple syllable was laden down with guilt, regret and apprehension. He drank her in for a moment, before suddenly moving behind her.

She hitched her breath as he disappeared from her view, but that breath hitched a lot more when a ringing swat bounced around the room. Straightening up from the single swat he had landed across her porcelain bottom, Gibbs returned to his original position. "Why did I just spank you?" he asked calmly, "What did you forget?" He folded his arms across his chest as he saw the confusion spark in her wide eyes. "Quickly now," he instructed, "You have five seconds to tell me what you forgot, or I'm going to spank you again. More than once. Now, you have a very serious punishment coming up so if I were you, I wouldn't go getting unnecessary extras." He raised a brow. "What did you forget?"

She stared with a quickened pulse, her mind racing. Thankfully, the sting that only his hand could create with one swat helped her thinking. "Sir," she answered quietly, "I forgot to call you sir." He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her. "We've spoken about that before, haven't we Cloda? It would seem that all these lessons I've been trying to teach you are only temporary for you. Which brings me back to why we're here. Food. We're here because of food, aren't we young lady? We're not having dinner and a movie, because of food. You're standing in front of me with no panties, because of food. Isn't that right?"

She felt her arms tremble atop her head as she bit down on her lip.

"Yes sir."

He nodded. "Good. Now, do you remember the very first spanking you ever got from me Cloda? The first discipline spanking? Can you tell me what that was for, can you tell me what you did so wrong to warrant being put across my knee and having your bare bottom reddened?" The heat in her cheeks was indicative of the kind of heat was awaiting a different set of cheeks. He always did this when she was in serious trouble. It had been nine months since the James fiasco and their relationship had blossomed and morphed in the year or so they'd been together. He rarely spanked her in a disciplinary style, but when he did, it was never nothing. It was always an occasion, that both would rather skip, but both knew to be necessary and wildly beneficial.

"I didn't eat," she murmured quietly, "I didn't eat and I blacked out because of it sir."

He nodded with an almost terrifying timbre.

"And we had a long discussion at that stage. I spanked you and we agreed you both deserved and needed it. We make an agreement, an honour bound agreement, that you would eat. That you would take care of yourself. That you would put aside even ten minutes to grab some lunch or some dinner. That you would never, _ever_ work a ridiculously long shift again without putting a single crumb in your stomach. We made that agreement, and until now, you've stuck to that agreement. Yet today, you decided to hell with our agreement. You decided to forget about the promise you made to me. You decided to ignore one of the very few rules we agreed on in our relationship. You didn't eat, you didn't take care of yourself and you worked a ridiculously long shift without putting a crumb in your stomach."

His eyes flashed dangerously.

"And I would like to know _why,_ young lady and I would like to know _now_."

To her immense shame, Cloda felt tears well up in her eyes. She never cried, not really. She was always the strong one, the one everyone turned to and the one everyone leaned on. She was robust and she was unshakeable and she faced adversity with a raised chin and stiff shoulders. But here, bared and vulnerable in front of the man she was rapidly falling irrevocably in love with, she had no shield. Her hands twisted in her hair as she tried to think, but his look of disappointment and his calm of voice of concern flooded her brain. Breathing in deeply, she knew better than to shrug but felt that was all she could offer. The truth…it was painfully idiotic. But she knew he was expecting it and she knew she had to give it.

"I forgot."

The look on his face jolted her memory further and she rapidly cleared her throat.

"I forgot, sir."

He said nothing for a moment, studying her thoughtfully. "Turn around," he instructed quietly, "Turn around and bend over. Hands on your knees, bottom up nice and high." She gulped and opened her mouth to argue but instantly thought better of it. Pivoting slowly, she faced away from him and steeled herself slowly. Curving her spine with the most difficulty it had ever taken, she leaned forwards and rested her hands on her knees. Her milky white bottom was presented at a perfect height as he moved forwards and rested a hand on the small of her warm back. "Why is it important that you address me correctly during any punishment?" he asked quietly, "Why do I insist on it Cloda, why do we require it?"

She pushed into the warmth of his hand, wishing it could stay there.

"Because it's important to differentiate between you as Gibbs and you as sir," she whispered jerkily, "and because it's important to know than when a punishment is over, it's over. You go back to being Gibbs and there's never any lingering equality issues." He nodded and couldn't help but rub her back in praise. "You realise I do this because I can't stand the idea of any harm coming to you, whether it's self inflicted or not? But I am never more important or more knowing than you, that is why I insist on you addressing me properly. I don't want you think of me of anything other than Gibbs for ninety nine percent of the time. Do you understand?"

She felt another wave of guilt crash over at his thoughtfulness.

"Yes sir."

He increased the hold on her back as he nodded. "Good, then keep still because this is a reminder of how seriously I take that ninety-nine/one percent split." With that, he raised a hand and brought it smartly down across the prone, plump buttocks. Before she could even hiss at the instant sting, nine more swats had cracked down and thoroughly heated a singular portion of her right cheek. Gibbs instantly stepped back into his original position and cleared his throat. "Stand up, turn around and I want hands back on head."

Her bottom carried a singular red splotch which would soon blend into a much wider hue of crimson. She turned to face him and placed her hands back on her head as directed, breathing deeply. "Have I made myself clear on the proper addressing system around here?" he asked quietly, "Because I really don't want to draw out this…conversation any longer than necessary." She nodded instinctively and cleared her throat. "It's clear, sir."

Gibbs nodded, satisfied.

"So, why did you forget?" he continued, as if there had been interruption. "How did you come to forget to intake any food for _thirteen hours?_ How did you become so fatigued between a lack of food and a crazy workload, that you fell asleep for five minutes at a pre-op sanitising station. How did it come about that your head slipped off your hand and your elbow was thrown forward onto that table causing…" He sucked in a sharp breath, his anger rising once more. "Causing a deep cut on your arm that was utterly unnecessary and had you been slightly more unfortunate, could have taken an _eye_ out. How did all that happen? How could that have possibly happened, given that I've addressed this issue with you before?"

She felt the cool hand of regret grasp her internals as she groaned internally.

But it was a question and a question required an answer.

"I wasn't thinking, I got so caught up in work…and I just didn't think." With the courage he loved about her she looked him dead in the eye and stared. "I know that's not an excuse, I'm not trying to give you an excuse. It was carelessness and thoughtlessness and I'm really sorry." Her arms were beginning to strain somewhat but she didn't let it show. "I know we agreed that I'd never do that again and I promise to make sure that this time…it never does happen again."

He raised a brow.

"I think you need a little help with that promise, don't you?"

She flushed and couldn't quite help a small gulp.

"Yes sir."

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, before turning to look behind him. They had agreed a couple of months back on certain pragmatic issues. Fun, sensual and downright silly play always took place in the bedroom, or anywhere else in the house that appealed. But…discipline, had its own nook of the living room. Gibbs had moved an ancient cabinet from a shaded corner and replaced it with a straight backed, relatively high wooden chair. Beside that wooden chair stood a small table with a large locked drawer. Atop the table stood a box of tissues, a soothing salve lotion and small, ornate bowl. To any outsider, it seemed like a tastefully decorated curio of no noteworthiness. To Gibbs and Cloda however, the salve was an important part of aftercare, as were the tissues. The bowl, when in use, was filled with lukewarm water that with a gentle facecloth, Gibbs used to dab away her tears. Inside the locked drawer lay a thick oak hairbrush, a short unyielding wooden spoon and a very new, and never used addition of a very short, thick leather strap.

Gibbs referred to the area at large as "the naughty corner."

Any reference to it never failed to set Cloda's face aglow and her pulse askew.

Producing a small key from his pocket, he quietly opened the drawer and thought quickly. Deciding against the strap and spoon he extracted the hard wooden brush and quietly closed the drawer. Turning to face her, he felt another jolt of pride when she didn't falter or flounder. She stared at him resolutely, her eyes saying more than her mouth ever could. "Do you agree with me that you need and deserve a healthy dose of this brush across your bare backside?" he asked quietly, and she knew he wanted a genuine answer. "Because if you don't, I will listen to you. I may not agree or relent to you, but I give you my word that I'll listen."

She swallowed a dry swallow as her every instinct screamed at her to lie.

But she could not.

She would not.

"Yes sir," she said quietly, but not meekly, never meekly, "I agree."

"Why?"

She suppressed a groan as she peeled her lips apart. "Because I broke our agreement. Because I didn't do as I said I would do and because I put myself at unnecessary risk because of it. Because I put my patients at unnecessary risk. Because we agreed to have very few rules, but we also agreed that rules were not interchangeable with my mood." She locked eyes with him once more. "Because I deserve it."

He stared for a moment, his eyes scorching a hole into her soul.

"Good girl," he eventually murmured as a soft glow shone in his eyes. Straightening himself up by reminding himself firmly there would be plenty of time to be soft later, he tapped the brush in his hands. He had to keep her safe, even from himself. He could be proud later. "Now, you've not had this on your backside yet, have you?" Looking at the brush in poorly concealed distaste, Cloda shook her head. They had chosen the three implements together, at her insistence. Gibbs had been initially reluctant to use more than his hand, but she had convinced him that she required tougher measures. They had found that fact out together during her last disciplinary spanking and he had to agree with her. She was a tough cookie and sometimes his hand just wasn't going to cut it.

"What did I tell you the first time I spanked you? What did I tell you would happen if I ever had to punish you for not eating again?"

Cloda was an analytical woman with a strong memory. His words were ingrained into her mind as the gateway to a new life and she would never forget anything about that very first time. She forced her voice to remain steady as she flushed heartily once more. "That if you ever had to spank me for the same thing, I would look back on that spanking as a Christmas present, sir." She blushed even more furiously and dropped her head, embarrassment coursing through her. "Look at me," he instructed quietly, "You will not look away when I am speaking to you young lady, you know better."

She did, but she couldn't help how long it took her to drag her eyes back to his.

"Now," he continued, "Let me get straight to the point. You are going to have your little butt torn up in the next minute or so. There is nothing more to say on the matter. You have no reasons for your behaviour that I'm willing to accept and you knew the consequences for breaking the eating rule. You should know that as angry as I am with you Cloda, I'm more disappointed than anything. I am disappointed in you. You let me down, but more importantly you let yourself down. You…I will not allow anyone to hurt you, especially you. If I have to put you across my knee every single night before bed for a week to make sure you don't hurt yourself, then that is what I will do."

He didn't miss the look of horror that shot across her face.

"Don't underestimate me," he intoned softly, "I would do it in a heartbeat. You have _got_ to start taking better care of yourself. You are brilliant, intelligent and resilient woman. Yet you have behaved no better than an irresponsible and naughty little girl. I'm not going to stand for it, I'm simply not going to allow it to continue."

He arched a brow.

"What am I not going to allow to continue, Cloda?"

She glowed with embarrassment as she sucked in some air. She knew there was no avoiding the question. "You're not going to allow me to continue acting like a irresponsible and naughty little girl sir," she whispered, wishing the ground would swallow her up. He shook his head and put a hand behind his ear. "What was that young lady? I didn't quite catch it." She scowled then, but it quickly fell away when his eyes blazed in response. Speaking clearly and succinctly, she repeated herself as the heat in her cheeks continued to grow.

"Good," he nodded, "I don't expect to have to strain to hear your answers. Is that clear?"

She resisted rolling her eyes, a very wise move.

"Yes sir."

He nodded slowly and then without further adieu, stepped the three steps to the chair that may as well have been electric. Sitting himself down slowly, he watched her carefully as he unbuttoned his right sleeve and began slowly rolling it up to his elbow. She stared in horrified fascination as he prepared himself with his meticulous gate. The chair was positioned far away enough from the wall that his swing wasn't hampered but it didn't look out of place. The cabinet was slightly behind the chair, so that he head wouldn't be in danger of colliding with it. She felt the breath hitch in her throat as he pointed to the spot in front of him.

"To me."

She walked slowly, but automatically. The logical part of her knew it was best to get it over with as quickly as possible, but she knew it would be a staggeringly painful process. She came to a rest in front of him, and he reached out to pull her between his knees, gently. Looking up at her, he wished he didn't have to do what he was about to do, but he did, and there was no point wasting time in hesitation. He held out the brush to her, which she took automatically, relieved to remove her hands from her head.

"You are going to hold this while I spank you," Gibbs instructed with a soft authority. "You are going to look at it and know that no matter how sore your bottom is in that moment, it's going to get a lot worse. You are going to look at it and know that your punishment is far from over. You are going to look at it and know that it is going to crack down on your naughty little bottom. You are not going to let go of it until I tell you to. If you do," he gestured slowly to the cabinet, and her horrified gaze followed. "If you do… I am going to try out that strap and I don't think you want that."

He steeled himself to continue.

"I want that brush in your hand while I use my hand to light up your behind. I want you thinking about how foolishly you've behaved. I want you thinking about how you're going to have your bare bottom blistered like a silly little girl. I want you thinking about how you didn't act like the sensible, intelligent and capable woman you are. I want you thinking about how I have no choice but to treat you like the careless and reckless girl you've acted like. I want you thinking about all these things when you're over my knee and waiting to hand me that brush. I think it's time you were taken firmly in hand on things like this, and I think this is just the right way to do it."

He arched a terrifying brow.

"Is that clear, young lady?"

It was all she could do to nod, she simply couldn't vocalise and he seemed to accept that. His words leeched into her, spreading regret like a venom. It always astounded her how his words could be more effective than any physical chastisement. They were spoken in an utterly calm tone, but they radiated with a quiet anger and authority. She felt the brush weigh heavily in her arms and knew this was a spanking she was never going to forget. The very thought sent her heart aflutter, and not in the pleasant, sensual way she'd become accustomed to.

"Now, don't you have something you'd like to ask me?"

She groaned with misery but he was utterly unmoved. "If I have to ask twice, you're going to spend more time alone in your naughty corner to give you time to think," he warned quietly, "I have very little patience left and you'd do well not to push it." Gulping, she nodded and peeled her lips apart with difficulty. She hated his part nearly as much as the spanking itself, but she knew it was effective in its own, heinous way.

"Please could you spank my bare bottom long and hard, so I can remember to be a good girl, sir?"

He leant back in the chair and nodded with surety.

"Certainly."

He tapped his knee as she moved slowly and silently to his side and raised a brow.

"Bend that naughty behind over my knee this second then. It has some serious consequences to reap."

Her breath hitched desperately in her throat as she did as she was bid. His thighs were firm and warm under her pelvic bone as she draped herself over his knee. She fit like a glove, and they both knew it. The chair was high enough that even with her tall frame, she dangled slightly over his knee, which was why he chose it, she was sure. His arm wrapped securely around her waist and her fate was sealed. Her porcelain bottom was presented at the perfect angle and with Gibbs' unyielding arm fastened around her, it would be going nowhere until he decreed it.

"Remember what I told you about holding onto that brush Cloda," he warned quietly, as he tugged her closer to him. "I see it anywhere other than in your hand or mine, and you will be one very sorry young lady. Now, you know the rules. Keep the squirming to a minimum but you cry all you need. Your hands do not come back to cover your butt, or there'll be extra at the end. You answer any question that I ask you and we'll get through this as best we can." He tapped her quivering cheeks with his land lightly. "Do you understand."

Her cheeks flamed the same colour that their rear counterparts were anticipating.

"Yes sir."

He tapped her bottom lightly again with a murmured "good girl."

And with that, the hand was removed. Cloda felt a bizarre sense of loss as the warm presence left her prone buttocks. Bizarre in the sense that she knew it was going to return, again and again, harder and harder. An eternity seemed to pass as his broad, hard hand whistled through the air. When it careered against her soft cheeks, the intensity of the swat took her breath away. He sure wasn't messing around. His dislike for repeat offences which had been a purely theoretical issue until now, was certainly being made clear. Before she could recover with more than a hiss from the first swat, the second crashed down on her bare cheeks. Gibbs was a methodical man and that translated into his discipline methods. His large hand covered most of each cheek as it fell and he made the most of the leathery texture of his palms.

The milky skin instantly reacted to his firm swats. Splotches of pink popped up under his hand immediately and he knew that her bottom would be a gleaming crimson by the time he was finished with her. She was draped at a perfect angle, allowing him to alternate his punishing hand logically. He spanked at a fast and yet thorough pace. He focussed on the centre part of her well presented behind to begin with, the sit spots would be well addressed later. The room sung with the sounds of skin on skin as he set about re-teaching a lesson he never wanted to revisit. Her gasping yelps were not unexpected, for he was far from holding back, but he refused to let them deter him.

She needed teaching a lesson and she was trusting him to teach it.

He wouldn't let her down.

Cloda couldn't believe how quickly the tears sprung up in her eyes. The drawn out and painful scolding she had received had already battered her defences. The never ending hand was the final nail in the coffin of her emotions. He was unyielding, allowing just enough time for the pain of one swat to peak before landing another, leaving no time for recovery. Her hips moves against her will, gyrating against his warm thighs, squirming her bottom away from the punishing hand.

He easily popped her back into place.

There were no words spoken as her tears began to fall. She didn't even feel ashamed at the early appearance of the salty wetness. She was with Gibbs and he would never judge her. As his hand dropped to apply a thick, crimson coat to her sit spots she couldn't help the strangled whimper that tore from her throat. That, it seemed, was enough to draw a vocalisation from him. "This is what happens to naughty girls who don't follow the rules they agreed to follow Cloda," he rebuked quietly, her sounds of distress killing him. "You deserve this and you are going to learn from this, even if it kills me. I want you looking at that brush young lady, because we are far from done here."

With that, he relapsed into silence and continued his rigid deliverance of a pre-agreed upon chastisement. With his words ringing in her eyes and the brush weighing in her hands, Cloda gave in. With a shuddering grasp as she spanked her upper thighs without compunction, she gave into peals of misery soaked sobbing. He knew his verbal chastisement had heartily contributed to the early crying, but Gibbs forced himself to maintain the firm pace and strength of Cloda's spanking. He tipped her forward and focused on her tender upper curve. "Every time you sit for the next week, you're going to remember this," he told her softly. "You are going to remember that you had to have your bottom spanked in order for you to take care of yourself. You are going to remember what happens when you defy me and put yourself in danger."

He refocused on the shimmering red hue that adorned the middle of her reddened buttocks.

Her tears of regret and anguish spilled onto the heavy wooden brush in her hands. She was quite sure she couldn't take any more, he had been spanking her for hours. But she also knew that he hadn't and that he would never give her more than she could take. She sobbed heartily as his leathery hand fell again and again, reminding her in no uncertain terms that eating was not an optional occupation. As she spluttered through fresh tears however, the steady tempo suddenly ceased.

Gibbs, feeling wretched, rubbed a hand gently over her scalded bottom.

"Easy, baby," he murmured softly, "You're ok, I got you…I got you. Take a breath…c'mon now, catch your breath. It's going to be ok, you're doing great. It'll all be over soon…just breathe for me Pup, just breathe for me…"

She sobbed furiously at the softness in his tone and the gentle salve of his warm touch. He rubbed along her back and spoke quietly to her, assuring her how she was loved, how was she treasured. How she made a mistake, and she was paying for it. How it would be all behind them soon, how proud he was of her bravery. How proud he was of her self-awareness. He held her for a long time, until her sobbing had petered out and rubbed her back with his warm hand.

But he knew that all breaks had to come to an end and to draw it out would be cruel. Swallowing and praying he was doing the right thing, he steeled himself. "It's time for the brush now young lady," he instructed quietly, readopting his firm disposition with a natural seamlessness. "If you had learned your lesson the first time, I wouldn't have to use it. If you had taken what you should have taken from your first spanking, you wouldn't be here. So I need to make sure you learn this time." He tapped her back lightly as she stiffened at his words. "Hand it to me."

A year seemed to trail by as she wiped her damp eyes and sniffled with such misery he winced.

But the brush suddenly appeared and he took it from her gently.

"Good girl," he praised quietly, refastening his arm around her waist. "Now, stay still. We're nearly there." He tugged her tighter to him as he appraised the wood in his hand and adjusted the strength of his swing accordingly. He wanted to teach her, not torture her. The first crack of the thick wood across her furiously red cheeks had him wincing right along with her.

He felt his heart tear in two as her wail of anguish reached his ears. He knew even one thwack of the brush would reignite the fire his hand had kindled across her behind. He held her tight as she began squirming involuntarily as the thick wooden careered against her very well punished sit spots. "You will never force me to do this again because of food Cloda," he warned quietly, his voice carrying over the sounds of wood to skin and her yelping sobbing. "If you do, that strap is going to come out of that drawer and its going to get very well acquainted with your backside. I'm not joking, that is your first and final notice. No more forgetting to eat and take basic care of yourself, I'm warning you."

With that, he fell silent as he resolved to bring the exhausting punishment to a merciful and logical close. Conscious that only relatively light taps of the brush were necessary, he focussed on ensuring all round coverage as Cloda descended into silent weeping over his knee, utterly consumed and encased by her chastisement. He grit his teeth as he landed the last four swats, two to each under curve of her flaming red cheeks, before throwing the brush out of his hand with staggering relief. Without missing a beat he reached down and expertly scooped her up into his arms, standing with ease. Her face was buried in his chest as he walked to the couch and sat carefully down, cradling her to him. She didn't even look up as she continued to weep quietly, a steady trail of dampness seeping into his shirt.

He murmured gently to her as he ensured her behind hung off his knee. Pressing a kiss onto her damp forehead, he softly brushed away the falling tears with a surprisingly gentle thumb. They sat like that for the longest time, Cloda expelling every single regret and morsel of guilt that resided in her body. He rubbed her back soothingly, holding her tight and in that moment, the world they were in was their own, completely and utterly. There was nothing and no one else, only him and her. She snuffled into his broad, warm chest and felt utterly calm as her tears began to dry and fade. His arms were safe and warm around her and she felt utterly light and free. When she finally spoke, a solid ten to fifteen minutes later, he was carding a loving hand through her hair. Her tear stained face was as beautiful as her happiest moments as he gazed up at him.

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head and pressed his lips against hers, her taste being salty but as irresistible as ever. "For what?" he breathed. She frowned up at him. "For not-" His soft thumb covered her entire rosebud mouth as he twinkled down at her. "That's in the past, remember Pup? The minute it's over, it's over. It's done. You're forgiven and it's forgotten and for what it's worth…you made me proud as all hell today. You're…" he blushed, and her heart skipped a beat. He dropped a kiss on her hair and shrugged sheepishly, the transition back to Gibbs being breathtaking in its ease and its comfort. "I'm just glad… I found you, is all."

She stared up at him for a moment, red rimmed but dry eyed.

The sudden kiss took him off guard, but he leant down and leaned into it with a gentle passion.

"I'm glad I found you, too."

He grinned his crooked grin and cocked his head. "I am pretty special, aren't I?" Rolling her eyes, she slapped him across the chest and chuckled as he pulled her into a soft embrace. A sudden shade of blue caught her eye, and she reached out and plucked her confiscated panties from his pocket. A rueful smile spread across her face as he grinned down at her. "Can I have these back now? I'm sure they'd look darling on you, but I don't want you to stretch them."

He shook his head in amused disbelief tempered with blissful relief.

"Doesn't take you long to bounce back to your cheeky little self, huh?"

She smiled that smile that made him feel twenty years younger and shook her head, auburn locks spilling onto her shoulders. "Isn't that what you love about me?" He sighed an amused sigh as he nodded in defeat. "One of the many things." She felt that ridiculous warm fuzziness encase her at his words and snuggled into his arms once more, wincing at the relentless fire that raged in her behind. "How the hell am I gonna sit tomorrow? I have consultation hours and those chairs are _hard._ "

He grinned as he kissed her nose and shrugged.

"Painfully and slowly, I should imagine. Sounds like a perfect reminder to me."

She glowered.

"You're a mean old fart, Agent Gibbs."

He raised a brow and tilted his head.

"Really, Dr O'Brien, really? Just when I was about to go and get the lotion and help you out a bit?" He clucked and shook his head. "No lotion for you then, if you think I'm that mean. It's gone, confiscated, caput." He suddenly placed her gently on the couch with an ease that only he seemed to manage and darted across to the chair he had just vacated. Plucking the miracle lotion that provided unbridled and unrivalled relief for a sore and chastised behind, he waved it in the air with a devilish grin.

She spluttered and unfurled herself with a gasp and a wince as her ass made contact with the sofa.

Panties in hand, she advanced towards the chuckling Gibbs, her fiery hair giving her the look of a woman possessed. "I will hurt you," she growled, sounding like the cutest cub he had ever heard, "Come back here and put that on for me. Like a _gentleman."_ He laughed freely, his eyes dancing as he backed away from the prowling predator. "Oh no, I'm a mean old fart, remember? Lovely language for such a distinguished lady, by the way. Nope, no lotion for you." He shot her a lopsided smirk. "Poor baby."

She halted in her advance, reaching back to thoroughly rub her equally thoroughly punished rear.

He was bigger and he was faster, and as she rubbed with a wince, she knew he was physically stronger. This was to be a battle of smarts if she were to win, a battle of brain over brawn. She smiled coyly at the self satisfied Gibbs, an angelic smirk crossing her refined features. "Oh ok," she crooned softly, "You're the boss, I guess."

He sensed danger.

Raw and imminent danger.

"So, no lotion for me," she continued as his eyes narrowed speculatively, "But you insist that we're equals right, that we're of the same importance and status in this relationship, correct?" He nodded slowly, amused and alarmed by her unfolding thought process. The crafty smirk that crossed her plump lips had him waiting for the bomb to drop.

"No lotion for me…" she tipped her head up at him, a foot of space between them, "No sex for you."

His face dropped like a stone.

Her face lit up like the sun.

Sighing, Gibbs bowed deeply, one hand across his stomach, with a proud smirk on his face.

"Can I interest madam in some lotion? It's the house special."

Little did either of them know that this would be their routine for many happy years to come.

…

A/N: Apologies if this was a little too long, I got a bit carried away. Do you guys want this one to continue? I think this could be a nice place to leave them, but I could go on. If I do, I was thinking about doing a chapter where Abby resists Cloda as being a part of Gibbs' life and seeing how he resolves that. Thoughts? Or is there anything you guys want to see? This fic is fun to write so I'm easy going in terms of the direction it takes if I carry it on. Regardless, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!

EDIT: Decided to actually leave this one here. Thanks for reading guys!

_Inks

…


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